


True Memories Cannot Be Forgotten

by Kateis_Cakeis



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Kiss, Fluff, Identity Issues, Love Confessions, M/M, Memory Loss, Romance, Wing Grooming, basically some weird version of a coffee shop au kinda in a way, dont mind the politics in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-04 06:11:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20466317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kateis_Cakeis/pseuds/Kateis_Cakeis
Summary: Heaven was making Crowley forget, Hell was doing the same to Aziraphale. It was the worst case scenario, and he would never know himself again.Anthony was going about his day normally until a redhead walked in, and in an instant, he was captured by the stranger. In a weird way, his body, his look, felt familiar. Maybe, they could become friends.





	1. Forgetting

Heaven… It was arguably worse than Hell. At least down there, Crowley knew what he was dealing with. But up here. It was too clean, too bright, too white. Or rather, grey. It was about what could be expected, cold, without the embrace of the person who started it all off.

Surreal, that’s what this was. With landmarks off to the side, cramped together, as if Heaven was showing off to the angels that never bothered to see what Earth was really like.

Keeping in character was hard when faced with angels that belittled Aziraphale, treating him like dirt on their shoes. Time and time again, he’d heard stories of how Gabriel put down everything Aziraphale said. Angels like that were worse than all the demons in Hell, because they believed they were the good guys, the heroes, knowing what’s _good_.

Enough time on Earth taught you that good and evil went hand in hand.

“What do you have planned for me?” he asked, watching carefully through the guise of Aziraphale’s body.

The problem was, Sandalphon had gone off somewhere, while Gabriel was smiling brightly. And Uriel had such a blank expression on, it would be almost terrifying to any human. The punishment, whatever it would be, was taking too long.

Gabriel slowly looked to Crowley, narrowing his eyes just a tad. “Heaven _can’t _destroy an angel, no matter how much we would like to. The Almighty would have something to say about that.” He smiled, mockingly. “Hellfire would be the preferred method, but truly, where’s the fun in that?” His lips curled in a cruel way. So unangelic.

_Fun_? Now that, that sounded more like torture. He could understand the prophecy if it meant surviving Hellfire, disguised as Aziraphale. But torture…? Why would choosing faces wisely mean anything there?

“Ah!” Gabriel exclaimed as Sandalphon returned, wheeling in a table of some sort. A box, with something surely inside. “Now, _Aziraphale_, it has been… awful knowing you.” He gestured to Uriel, who stepped forward and opened the box. “But don’t worry, you won’t even know yourself soon.”

As Uriel picked up the object inside, Crowley realised what it was. He shivered at the sudden burst of thoughts of what that meant for him. Shit… Shit. No. No, no… They couldn’t do this. Not this. They were supposed to survive this, weren’t they? Dying would be a blessing compared to awful reality this would entail.

It was a relic, God’s big red reset button. Not that it was red, or a button. It was more like a cylinder, blue with white engravings. Only two existed, one for Heaven, and one for Hell.

A way to take unruly angels or demons back under control. But it wasn’t _meant _to be used. It was thought too callous on both sides. But, Crowley supposed that didn’t matter with something as big as this. An angel and a demon not only knowing each other, but helping one another out, being friends, and stopping Armageddon. It was a long list of crimes by Hell’s and Heaven’s standards, destroying them _should _have been the suitable punishment.

Shit.

He clenched his fists, unclenching quickly. “Surely, this is too cruel for Heaven, is it not?”

Uriel laughed. “Too cruel? For a renegade angel who would rather spend time with his precious demon boyfriend? No, it’s not.”

Gabriel clasped his hands, smiling. “That’s the worst punishment of all! Not death, but you knowing, _right now_, that you’ll never know that _demon _again. You look stricken.”

Crowley closed his eyes, trying his best not to cry, or scream. He didn’t want to show weakness, for Aziraphale’s sake. “What about… Crowley?” His words stumbled out despite his slight quivering.

Sandalphon smirked. “Oh, he’s forgetting too.”

“Why? Why not kill us?” As much as he hated to say it, death was merciful in this situation.

“Because killing you will end your suffering before its begun.” Gabriel spread his arms, clapping his hands together swiftly. “Let’s get on with it.”

Uriel stepped forward, and Crowley spared a thought to the fact he was a demon, with the appearance of an angel. He wasn’t forgetting while looking like himself, and he didn’t know if that was worse or better. Because either way, he wouldn’t remember a damn thing. Wouldn’t remember he was a demon, or all the memories of six thousand years, or… Aziraphale.

As Uriel approached, holding the relic outwards, Crowley began to squirm.

“No! You can’t do this!” He blinked back tears. “You can’t! We’re supposed to be the good guys, not _this_. Six thousand years! Six _thousand_, that’s how long Crowley and I have known one another, you can’t erase that! It’s cruel… Stop! Please, please, just kill me!”

The last words he heard, over his own shouting, his pleading, was Gabriel saying, “A fate worse than death.”

\--

Anthony thought he was looking particularly suave. Well, as suave as he could be when going to work. With his black jacket with a red collar, his red shirt and his skinny jeans. If he was being honest, and he was, they were woman’s jeans, and he looked _divine _in them.

He combed his hair back, putting it in some kind of style, loving how flexible and malleable it was. It being beautifully white and bright meant it blended with his dark attire with ease.

As he was just about to set out, his phone rang. He picked it up, and, ah, it was his mum. Probably being the normal worry wort she could be.

He answered instantly. “Hey, Mum. I was about to go to work.”

“Oh, Zira, I was only ringing to see how you were.”

“I’m fine. Just been doing the usual.” His voice felt too soft spoken when talking to his mum. As if he was scared of her. She was known to be judgemental. And it didn’t help that he hadn’t told her he’d rather go by Anthony. He’d never liked how Zira Fell sounded. Anthony Fell was much better. Felt more appropriate, though, he didn’t know why.

Maybe because it was his choice.

“Like what, darling?”

“Work? Coming home and passing out.” He laughed a little. “Reading… Gardening.”

“Ah, good. I’ll let you get on but call me more often!”

“Will do.” He turned on his heel. “Bye.”

“Bye!”

He hung up with a sigh and pocketed his phone. He threw on his backpack before he was out the door, sauntering down the stairs, relaxing into his normal sway of the hips. He headed out onto the street, crossed the road, rounded a corner, and went right into the little café he loved so much.

It had wonderful cakes, perfect coffee, all the teas you could need and copious amounts of hot chocolate. And not to mention the sandwiches. He tended to stick to making drinks, rather than the food. Although, he did tend to bake on Mondays and Fridays. Simply because those were better days to get up early. And serving people, giving them their drinks, sometimes pissing off bigots who thought their progressive posters and ally stickers to all sorts of causes were dumb, was fun. It homed in on his better skills.

Plus, the owners let him wear whatever he liked. The place could be described as hipster, and that made the clientele all the more fun to mess with.

He vaulted over the counter, twisted around, grabbed the cloth he had under the counter and wiped it down briefly. He took a quick peek at the cakes of today. Which consisted of the typical bunch, although strangely, they had a huge Jaffa Cake cake, which wasn’t their usual style.

Few customers were in at the moment, so he popped out back. The owners Joyce and Elsie were beginning the long process of preparing some decorations for the next day. Anthony had noticed some of their chocolate stands needed replacing. He gave them a wave, said a quick hello and threw his bag into the backroom.

Once he went out front, the day went fairly slowly till lunch time. He was serving plenty of customers when… Sandalphon came in, with that scary smile of his. Anthony only knew his name because he’d shouted it one day while threatening to get him fired. Apparently, Anthony had given him cold tea, but it had been hot to the touch, so he’d argued the toss. Which had been a mistake.

In addition to his name being strange, it was like he was keeping a constant eye on him. Anthony only wanted to please him so he wouldn’t go batshit again. And so he wouldn’t be fired, he had to keep up the rent for his pokey little flat after all. If you could even call it a flat.

Sandalphon came sweeping up to the counter, somewhat politely waiting as Anthony finished serving other customers. Once he was done though, Sandalphon gave him a cruel stare, lips curling.

“Coffee. Black. Be ready in two minutes, or it will be your head.”

As he turned away, Anthony rolled his eyes before sighing. He finished Sandalphon’s order first, bringing it to him personally. He had no choice. And the last thing they needed was yet another scene. This wasn’t a place for a dinner and a show.

“Hm.” Sandalphon peered into the cup. “Let’s hope, for your sake, it’s good.”

“Yes, let’s,” Anthony gritted out as politely as possible before whisking away.

As he returned to his post, beginning to work on the other orders, the waiting customers looked sympathetic. Most understood his situation (after all, a lot of people once worked in customer service) but they never did anything. No one ever got involved or told Sandalphon to shut the fuck up. But the people weren’t cowards either, they were only scared of someone who radiated with power.

However, when one woman collected up her cup of coffee, she gave him a concerned look. “You shouldn’t let him treat you like that.”

Anthony shrugged. “I know, but it’s better than having an angry customer on my hands.”

“If he tries anything, you could sue.”

“Nah. Thanks for the suggestion though.”

She nodded to him, sitting at the table closest to the counter. Perhaps there were people who cared, they just did it in quiet ways.

Unfortunately, Sandalphon kept his eyes on Anthony for a straight two hours. Which… was more than unnerving. But, as per his normal routine, Sandalphon left at three o’clock. It made the last two hours of work relaxing and free from any troubles. Other customers tended to be decent people.

Eventually, five o’clock swung around. They got most of their footfall during lunch, so there was no reason to stay open later. Which was good for Anthony, it allowed for a good amount of free time after work.

The first thing he did when he got home was open the freezer. He took out a box, plucking a mouse from it. He slid it into a plastic bag, placed it in a bowl and put it in the fridge, returning the box to the freezer.

He made his way over to his favourite part of his flat, where he kept Nathair. A red-bellied black snake Anthony had raised for the past six months. He peeked at him, watching carefully as Nathair slithered close, raising his head to the top of the vivarium. Anthony beamed, opening the lid and extending his arm.

“Come on up then,” he said, grinning like a loon.

Nathair happily slithered onto Anthony’s arm, twisting up to curl around his shoulders. It was strange how affectionate Nathair was with him, but he was often calmer and seemed to be more comfortable when resting on Anthony’s body. Which was only a bonus, since he loved snakes so much.

He sat down on his sofa and flicked on the TV, catching up on some nature documentaries. Nathair always seemed to like the ones about snakes. And frankly, so did Anthony.

That meant the newest documentary about all kinds of snakes and how they changed throughout the world was first up. As soon as it started, a little bit of Britishness swelled in Anthony at the sound of Sir David Attenborough’s voice. Nathair settled down, resting his head on Anthony’s as they both prepared to watch.

Anthony was pleasantly surprised to see the Papuan black snake as the first species they talked about. It was a close cousin to Nathair’s species. “See that? That’s a close relative to your species, Nat.”

Nathair distantly hissed.

“Maybe they’ll talk about your species.” Anthony smiled, stroking a hand down Nathair. There was nothing quite like learning and watching together.

\--

Anthony was busy giving the blender a quick clean, when the door opened. The bell ringing joyously. He swirled around and stopped in his tracks. The striking red hair hit him first. The light shone onto it, making the strands look like fire. And then his clothes. A knee length peach jacket, a light grey waistcoat, over a white jumper. All of which seemed to match with the light grey jeans. It was certainly a look. His eyes were brown, but somehow, calling them that didn’t feel right.

He strolled up to the counter with half confidence, and perhaps a little anxiety. His eyes immediately set on the menu, and he stared for some time. Anthony tried to give himself tasks, but found his eyes slipping to the stranger again and again. There was something about him. But he couldn’t pinpoint what.

The stranger piped up eventually, resting a hand on the counter. Anthony slid over to take his order. “I’ll have a white hot chocolate and… a bakewell tart please!”

Anthony smiled as he got to work. The guy seemed very enthusiastic about the bakewell tart. As he shifted it onto a plate, the man lit up. Here, they didn’t do them like any supermarket brand. They did a larger tart – a little like the traditional – and had the top covered in glacial cherries. Again, as he placed the white hot chocolate (topped with cream and chocolate sprinkles) the guy grinned brightly.

“That’ll be five pounds and ten pence.”

The guy opened up his wallet and placed a five pound note down, along with a ten pence. Ahh, exact change. Always a blessing when people didn’t use cards.

“Thank you.” He smiled as he took both plates to a table.

The afternoon wasn’t too busy, so Anthony spent his time cleaning, while keeping an eye on the stranger. It was a good way to do it, in his humble opinion. He was handsome, that was for certain, but it wasn’t just that. There was something else. Like Anthony craved exactly what that guy had. His body for one. But until now, until the stranger, he hadn’t felt like that. He’d liked his body, but that stranger… It didn’t feel like jealousy, just a weird longing.

The guy came back to the counter an hour before closing time, holding his used dishes. “I didn’t want you leaving your post for these.” He scowled. “I saw that big tray they make you carry.”

“Oh… That.” Yes, the tray. A huge thing designed to break any back with the weight of all the dishes. But it was efficient enough. He shrugged. “It helps build muscles.”

“Or break your bones when it comes tumbling down on you. Worse still, it could give you osteoarthritis.”

Anthony shrugged again, smiling a little. “Thanks for the concern, and for bringing the dishes up.”

“You’re welcome.” With a grin, the guy leant forward. “And your hot chocolate was to _die _for. Not to mention that bakewell tart. Divine.”

Anthony could feel his cheeks warm. Compliments were rare. “The hot chocolate is my own recipe. I came up with the perfect blend.” He leant against the counter, pushing his hip into it. “Although, the sugar content is sky high.”

“Oh, well, that’s to be expected.” The guy gave another bright smile before checking his watch. “Oh, I should go.” He paused. “I’ll surely be coming back.”

“Glad to hear it.”

The guy waved a little, whisking out of the shop. Anthony smiled, leaning into the counter further. Something about that guy… It made him hope to something that he’d come back.

A customer – who had left their dishes – had been staring. They were a regular, so much so Anthony knew their order off by heart, and they seemed particularly happy. They gave Anthony a thumbs up before leaving.

Today… was a good day. And something about it made it feel like life would change and get better from here on out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be updating this weekly!!!
> 
> Come chat to me on [tumblr!](https://kateis-cakeis.tumblr.com/)


	2. Relearning Each Other

Anthony shot a look to the clock. Finally, it was break time. He scowled at Sandalphon, wishing he’d go. He liked having his break out front, but Sandalphon was a dick. Meaning he didn’t give Anthony any reprieve. Sadly… Still, that wouldn’t stop him. He existed to spite Sandalphon at this point.

He made his way out back, smiling at Joyce on the way. “I’m on my break!” he called out.

Joyce nodded, instantly leaving her bread behind. (Elsie would surely continue it). “Have a good one.” She scuttled out the door, out onto the shop floor.

Anthony bypassed the kitchen and slunk into the backroom, grabbing the sandwich he’d bought earlier and his flask of tea. He crept out, sliding over to the table in the corner, far from the customers present. He happily set up his food, pouring tea into his small cup, and unwrapping his sandwich carefully.

He was about to dig in, when he noticed something strange. Sandalphon was gone (which was weird, he always stayed for Anthony’s break if he was there at the time) and the stranger was back. He’d been coming every day for a week, and according to Elsie, he was sorely disappointed on the days Anthony was off. Though, when he was at work, they would always have a quick chat. It was more small talk really. And the guy would tend to rush off to… work, Anthony presumed.

He watched as the guy got his usual hot chocolate and got a slice of ribbon cake. He was slowly making his way through their menu, one cake at a time. Anthony smiled, taking his eyes off the guy to tear into his BBQ chicken baguette (he’d been excited for it all morning).

“Mind if I sit here?” the guy asked, nearly scaring Anthony half to death.

After he’d almost jolted out of his chair, he gave an easy smile. “Sure, if you tell me your name.”

The guy sat, placing his tray down. He delicately set his hot chocolate and cake on the table, moving the tray to the floor thereafter. He leant forward, eyes glinting. “I’m Az, and you are?”

“Anthony.”

Az sat back, taking his hot chocolate into his hands. “Ah, interesting our names both begin with an A.”

“A is a brilliant letter, if I do say so myself.” He smirked, slouching down in his seat. “And it’s nice to finally put a name towards you.”

“I’ve quite enjoyed our brief chats.”

“Me too. You’re certainly intriguing.” Anthony – as casually as he could – took a bite of his sandwich.

“Do you ever make any of these cakes?” Az poked at his ribbon cake, taking a small forkful, smiling lightly as he swallowed.

Anthony shot a look over to the cake case. “Only sometimes. I like making Victoria Sponge, half chocolate covered choc chip cookies, and… blondies! Because brownies are _boring_.”

Az grinned. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

At that, he tried not to blush, but he knew he failed miserably. “So, what suddenly brought you to this café?”

“It might sound strange… but I was drawn to it, in a way. I passed by it for the first time and couldn’t help but come in! I don’t know why.”

“We do have a bright interior, like your colour style.”

Az hummed. “Perhaps that was it.”

They generally chatted about nothing as they ate and drank. Az complimented Anthony on his choice of flask, (a tartan kind of design with a white lid) and Anthony told Az how much he liked seeing the different jumpers he’d wear with the same waistcoat and jacket.

It was the best lunch time break Anthony had experienced since… forever.

As soon as his break was over, he bid Az goodbye, happy to have his number now. Even if Az’s phone was ancient by modern terms. The model was at least five years old.

Still, Anthony was happy. He was making a new friend, and when was the last time he did that?

As he appeared behind the counter, Joyce turned to him and beamed. “Is he your type? Because you both look good together.”

Anthony choked on air, shaking his head. “Joyce, I barely know the guy.”

“But you’re _getting _to know him.” She placed her hand on Anthony’s shoulder. “You should totally ask him out.”

“I doubt I’m his type.”

She scoffed. “He was hanging onto every word you said, hun.”

“I’d…” He shrugged, “rather pine from afar.”

With a sigh, Joyce began walking towards the door. “Don’t pass up a good opportunity, he likes you, I’d bet on it.”

When Joyce turned away, Anthony rolled his eyes. He’d never _dare _ask Az out.

\--

**Anthony: **Hey, I have a question

**Az: **Hi! Ask away!

**Anthony: **What’s your favourite flavour in a cake??? I’m curious 🤔

**Az: **Oh! Strawberry! It’s such a delicate, soft and sweet flavour. I had a strawberry and apple crumble once, and ever since, it’s been my favourite kind of crumble!

**Anthony: **Huh, people often say orange or apple. Interesting you like strawberry. You don’t hear that very often. You’re very unique Az

**Az: **I do pride myself on surprising people.

**Anthony: **You’re good at subverting expectations ☺ I’m not easily surprised you know.

**Az: **Well, that’s good to know :)

**Anthony: **So, I may have had a drink or two or like five at this point.. but who’s counting. But I have another question!!

**Az: **Go ahead!

**Anthony: **How many horses would it take to crowd an Old Town Road?? Real questions for real memes that are making a sudden comeback (honestly cant believe Lil Nas X did a remix with Tom Jones now????)

**Az: **Four. Think about it. There are four horsemen of the apocalypse. They have a lot of power! So, their horses could surely crowd an old town road…

**Anthony: **That’s an enlightening answer. I’m soooooo glad you understand memes now. It was sad when you didn’t know what ‘road work ahead’ meant.

**Az: **😊 The best and worst thing you ever did was introduce me to vines because… Well, I believe the saying is ‘RIP Vine’.

**Anthony: **Poor Vine. Anyway, are you coming by the café tomorrow? I’m baking something new!

**Az: **What is it? It’s not like you to break your rule. Three recipes was meant to keep the work load off you??

**Anthony:** Relax! It’s an easy recipe, you’ll love it!

**Az: **Oh, will I? Is it filled with sugar? Because that doesn’t work every time!

**Anthony: **It’s what you are! And I will say no more!

**Az: **Well, I’m looking forward to it! I’ll be round in good time tomorrow.

**Anthony: ** **😊😀😀😌😀😊🙂😇😈😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😀**

**\--**

Delicacy… It wasn’t like it was easy, slicing a bunch of strawberries with the precision of a surgeon with a scalpel. He wanted it to be pretty, so it was damn well going to be pretty. He carved a few, so they looked a little like flowers. After that, he lightly dusted the cake with icing sugar, placing the strawberries on top. He had them at regular intervals, all looking perfect.

He covered the cake with a lid and moved it out of the kitchen and into the cake case by the counter. Joyce peered at it, grinning as she positioned some other baked goods. They worked together to make the case look as beautiful as possible, swapping around certain cakes to make each level have a sort of colour theme.

It worked, it looked good.

“Will it impress him?” Elsie asked from the doorway.

Anthony rubbed his neck, staring at the cake. “I hope so. Really, I just want him to like it.”

Joyce clapped him on the back. “He’ll like it. He loves your blondies, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah, sure, but–”

“Then you have nothing to worry about!” Elsie exclaimed. “Look at it this way, he fancies the pants off you, I bet. Why else would he come here every single day for three months? You can’t lose here!”

Anthony knew by how much his face warmed, that he was a lovely shade of red. “No matter how much you guys say it, there’s still a chance he doesn’t.”

“_Pfft_. As if.”

“We’re friends, almost best friends at this point. It doesn’t _have _to be anything else.”

Joyce basically shook Anthony, she towered above him, so it was more than intimidating. “Don’t be such a coward, Anthony.”

He glowered at them till they retreated back to the kitchen, laughing their heads off. Sometimes… they were the most chaotic couple. And they were treating him like he was the young one! Like he was some twenty-year-old pining for first love…

Well, the pining part was right.

It was Friday, which meant no Sandalphon. That was good in of itself. What made the day better was the customers. They were kind, gave exact change if they were paying with cash, and had wonderful smiles. They seemed truly grateful for Anthony’s service.

The lunch time rush was calming by the time Az made his appearance. Anthony finished off the coffee he was making, passing it off to a young woman. As he approached, he let himself freely stare at Az. The feeling was still there, about his body, but apart from that, the way he held himself, the way he walked, it was all so charming.

Anthony was completely charmed; he was only beginning to realise that.

“What did you make?” Az asked as he came to a stop.

“Take a look, see what’s new.”

Az focused on the case, his eyes narrowing slowly. “Hold on a second…”

“Yes…?”

He smiled softly. “Angel cake? Really?”

“Yes!” Anthony grinned, shifting on his feet. “Do you want a piece?”

“Absolutely! I do love a good angel cake. I can’t wait to try _yours_. Your bakes always taste a little magical.”

Anthony picked up a plate and cut a slice, still smiling. “That’s interesting to know. I’m glad they give you such a wonderful effect.”

“Oh, they really do.” Az glanced at the menu for a second, but they both knew what drink he was going to get. “And I think I’ll indulge and have a white hot chocolate too.”

Anthony smiled, seamlessly placing the cake on a tray before moving onto the drink. He could do this hot chocolate with his eyes closed now. It was his favourite to make too, just because of how happy it made Az.

“That’ll be five pounds.”

Az happily paid, in exact change, beaming as he usually did. “When are you on your break?”

“Not until a couple hours.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Sorry.”

“Oh, it’s fine. You have work.”

As soon as he said it, a customer walked in. Anthony nodded. “That I do.”

Az took a seat at the nearest table, carefully transferring his stuff off the tray. He sipped at his hot chocolate first, smiling softly. If Anthony was honest, he was a little (very) distracted as he served the customer (who only wanted an earl grey tea). He was watching Az more than he was watching the customer as he cut into the cake.

It almost resulted in Anthony accepting the wrong amount of money before he realised. “Sorry, you need another pound.”

The customer gasped. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I’m an idiot.” They dug into their wallet and produced another pound. “I don’t need a receipt.” And they whisked away to sit down.

Anthony was in such a whirlwind from it, that he nearly missed Az taking a bite. But luckily, he caught it. He leant into the counter as he watched Az chew, and ever so slowly… smile. Once he swallowed, his smile transformed into a straight up grin, beaming brightly.

“Oh, Anthony, this is wonderful!”

Nobody could blame him if he blushed at that. He was being complimented on his food after all! It wasn’t that it was Az or anything! “Thank you. Do you like the flavour?” He smirked, leaning on his hand.

Az shot him a look, still grinning but rolled his eyes a little. “I should have known your curious question was a ploy… But I’m glad you asked, because I’ve never had an angel cake taste as good as this. Strawberry is truly my favourite flavour.”

“I’m happy you like it, I worked hard on it.”

Az poked at one of the carved strawberries. “Yes, I can see that.” His expression went terribly soft. “I hope you didn’t go into all that trouble just for me.”

Anthony gave a true and real smile. It was as genuine as it got. “You’re one of my fave customers, Az. And you’re my _friend_, of course I did it for you.”

“Well… thank you. Thank you so much.” He chuckled to himself. “This cake has changed my life!”

“Alright, steady on there.”

He stared at Anthony for a long second. “What if it’s true?”

Anthony twisted his mouth. “Then I’ll have to find a way to make an even better cake.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

“Good. You should.”

\--

**Anthony: **What do you work as? 🤔🤔 Don’t think it’s ever come up, which is horrible since we’ve known each other for months now 🙈😳🙈

**Az: **Oh, don’t worry about it. I never mentioned it either 🤷  
I’m a classic car salesman. It’s so lovely seeing so many people buy and love the cars!

**Anthony: **But they’ll be rich… So how often are the cars used? _Are _they loved? Or are they just another addition to a collection that rots in a garage?! ☹

**Az: **Sometimes I feel that way about cafés. I mean, just how many cakes have to be thrown out? And fruit? And all those ingredients? It… Well, I care about food.

**Anthony: **At our café, we try to donate food, but some of it can’t be, for various reasons. Still, I didn’t know my rant about classic cars would be relatable

**Az: **It was! It’s wonderful to know that you donate food. I’m very glad to hear it.

**Anthony: ** **✌✌🖖🖖**

**Az: **Hey, Anthony, do you want to do something sometime?

**Anthony: **Like what?

**Az: **We could grab food from somewhere? Or go on a walk? Or… something like that.

**Anthony: **Of course food would be your first suggestion 😋 Hmm, I think a meal sounds good! We could go to the cinema after? I was thinking of going to see a new horror movie that’s out

**Az: **No… we’re not going to see a horror movie. I bet you have horrible taste in them! But I do know a new TV show that’s starting, a drama, on BBC 1? We could watch the first episode together…

**Anthony: **First… my taste in horror movies is amazing! Second, that sounds like a much better idea! When does the TV show start?

**Az: **Thursday. I have the day off, and so do you. We could meet at 12, get lunch, waste time until the evening and go to either yours or mine. :)

**Anthony: **Looks like we’ve gotta plan, Az. I’m looking forward to it!

**Az: **Me too, it’s been a long time since I watched a TV show with someone!

**Anthony: **And it’s been a while for me too. It’ll be fun :D

**Az: **Absolutely!  
Also, would you like to drive a classic car? I could set up a 24hr test drive

**Anthony: **Seriously??? Because, yeah! I would love to!

**Az: **I’ll send you the address of the showroom! Remember, bring your license!

**Anthony: **Will do 🤙

**Az: **Your use of emojis is weird.

**Anthony: **I think you’ll find my use of emojis is _required_, you just need to learn how useful they are! 😋

**Az: ** **🙄**

\--

Anthony stepped into the showroom and was hit with the need to _treasure _all these cars. They were old and lovely, and none had a single bit of chipped paint. It was clearly a very _posh _showroom, only accepting the best of the best, he guessed. The flooring was white shiny tiles, windows covered every slice of wall, the interior was jet black.

It was the very definition of modern. Which was strange, considering all the old it harboured.

Az came running up to him, grinning ear to ear. “My boss has given us the all clear.” He gestured to all the surrounding area. “Pick a car, any car!”

Anthony walked further into the showroom, immediately drawn to a 3.5-litre Derby model Bentley. It was beautiful, black and sleek. Whoever was the previous owner had clearly taken great care of it. There wasn’t a single sign of rust, decay, or even a scratch. It effectively looked new out of the factory; it was so perfect.

“We actually don’t know the previous owner of this one,” Az said, moving towards Anthony as he peeked through a window. “It turned up on our doorstep one day, with its full service history and everything that has ever happened to it.”

“Wow.” Anthony stood up straight, giving the car another once over. “I’ve seen cars but this… this is a _Car_.”

“Would you like to drive this one?”

He was about to say yes when his eyes landed on a Jaguar SS 100 3.5-litre Roadster. Black, with a red interior. It was a relatively warm day outside… they could have the roof down. Feel the wind in their hair. It would be the perfect car to take, to have fun with. And it would be quite the ride.

“As much as I’d love to, can we drive that Jaguar?” He pointed to it, grinning.

Az smiled softly at Anthony. “We can.”

“Great!”

It didn’t take long for Az to register him into the system, so he was insured. And before they knew it, they were on the road, driving through the London streets. They had to make a quick pitstop, the car wasn’t going to fuel itself, but after that they had a pleasantly decent drive. Az had mentioned he’d reserved a table at some restaurant for two o’clock. So they had plenty of time to maneuverer around complicated junctions and annoying streets, while trying not to knock over pedestrians who didn’t know how to stop, look, and listen.

“Did you make the right choice?” Az asked. His hair was flapping all over the place, and Anthony had to supress a laugh when he glanced over.

He flexed his hands on the wheel. “Yeah, I think so. It has a lovely feel to it.”

“Better or worse than modern cars?”

Anthony scoffed, side glaring an SUV he couldn’t be bothered to name as it rolled past them. “Better. You never get the same performance out of a poxy modern car.”

Az chuckled softly. “Maybe you should get a classic car then?”

“There’s barely any point, since I live five minutes away from where I work. Besides, there’s nowhere to _park_.”

“Perhaps when you retire one day, you’ll be able to get any car you’d like.”

Anthony smiled, leaning back as they came to a stop at a traffic light. “That’s a nice thought.”

The restaurant Az had chosen was on the outskirts of London, which finished off their drive in a nice way. Luckily, the place had put a car park around the back. It was only small, but there was enough room for them to get parked. It eliminated the anxiety caused from the lack of parking in Britain. It was truly awful, an epidemic of disappearing spaces. So, the car park was greatly appreciated.

The restaurant was a quaint thing, with a cosy interior. They got seated right away, by a window. Which was nice, since Anthony could peer out of it and see how others were going about their day. Their menus were swiftly placed in front of them. And Az quickly ordered a glass of wine, while Anthony was responsible and ordered water.

“This place feels half like a normal pub and half posh,” Anthony said, peering at his menu. The interior and smell of the place resembled a good ol’ pub, while the dishes and prices certainly screamed posh.

“Hmm. It seems pleasant.”

“Yeah, it does.”

A dish caught his eye. Southern fried oysters. He knew he’d had oysters before, he just didn’t remember when, or what the dish had been.

But southern fried ones? It sounded interesting enough.

Az pulled the menu closer to himself, narrowing his eyes. “They… do a dessert pizza here.”

Anthony sat back and smirked. “I’m guessing you’re getting a pud for lunch then.”

“Well…” He put his menu down slowly, smiling. “It can’t hurt.”

“Nahh. Besides, I think this place pushes the boat out a little too far with its menu.”

“Yes, I don’t think I’ve seen strawberries dipped in bitter chocolate as a starter before.”

Anthony glanced at his menu, that had skipped his brief skim. And sure enough, there it was, a six pound starter. “You really picked a wild one here.”

Az shifted his gaze to the window. “They had good reviews…”

“I don’t doubt it.” He furrowed his brow at one of the sandwiches. “What kind of combo is cucumber, onions and mustard on brown bread?”

As Az was just about to open his mouth to reply, their waiter returned with a gleeful expression. “Are you ready to order?”

They both placed their orders, which caused a little confusion with the waiter. Clearly, they had never had a customer come in and ask for a dessert straight away. Still, it was all fine. They idly chatted about the weather, what cakes Anthony was going to whip up next, and the life cycle of a damn butterfly. They were onto the strange world of politics by the time their food came. Which was a welcome break from the haunting reality of the far right being on the rise.

Anthony peered at his dish, smiling at the presentation. The oysters were lined up in a zigzag pattern, with a small pool of chilli sauce next to each one. But the sauce had been shaped into what looked to be a horn. As if the chilli was as hot as hell. Which was a nice detail of what he’d gotten himself into. Hopefully it was a true chilli sauce, using the chilli and not the essence alone.

“My dish is a metaphor,” he whispered as he dipped one oyster in the sauce.

Az grinned. “Mine looks rather delightful.”

That… was no word of a lie. A crisp base, baked to perfection, lightly dusted with sugar on the crust. The sauce on top consisted of the shiniest melted chocolate Anthony had ever seen. Perhaps it was a ganache. And the _toppings_. Melted marshmallows, tiny bits of dried strawberry and raspberry, milk and white chocolate chips, small chunks of soft toffee, and a sprinkling of icing on the top.

It was a heart attack on a plate, but one worth having.

“I’m going to get hyper just looking at it.” Anthony chuckled before popping an oyster in his mouth.

Az shrugged, positively glowing. “That’s the kind of risk I’m willing to take.” He picked up a slice, and it was a miracle he managed to get it from the plate to his mouth without a topping sliding off.

They’d taken a good chunk out of their meals by the time a conversation piped back up.

“So, how is Nathair?” Az asked.

Anthony instantly lit up; he couldn’t help it. “He’s _great_. We watched a show about the evolution of mice the other day, and I was almost sure he was preparing to eat my TV by the end of it.” He leant on his hand. “He’s the cutest. And he rests his head on mine…”

Az gave the warmest smile, so warm in fact, that Anthony stopped talking, getting too easily distracted by it. “It’s wonderful how much you love him, and clearly, he loves you.” His brow slightly furrowed. “I don’t believe you’ve ever told me what species he is.”

“Oh! He’s a red-bellied black snake. A species native to Australia. They’re venomous but it wouldn’t kill you if you were bitten. It’d just hurt, a lot. But Nathair is the tamest, calmest snake I’ve ever known.”

“You have a snake that could send you to the hospital sit on your head?”

“Well, yeah. It’s no big deal, it’s as you said, Nathair loves me. He wouldn’t hurt me.”

Az raised an eyebrow. “Is it safe for you to do that?”

“Relatively.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “Relax. I know how to handle snakes, have done my whole life.”

“Okay!” Az happily went back to eating his dessert.

Anthony took that in his stride and had a couple more oysters before saying, “You know, I’m truly looking forward to the show.”

“Ah, yes, me too. I know dramas are a big part of TV these days, but the fact it’s a crime drama based during the 2008 crash seems… too interesting to miss out on.”

“Considering we were alive for it and it’s in _very _recent memory, it’ll be interesting how different it’ll be. How they’ll exaggerate the crisis, and the inaccuracies that will be surely present.”

Az thinned his lips. “I have no doubt _everyone_ will have an iPhone. And everyone will have those crocs on.”

Anthony instantly put his head in his hands, pretending to scream, even though he was screaming internally. “Crocs. Oh no, not _crocs_!”

“Yes… Crocs… It’ll be awful.” He grimaced. “The noughties as a whole had… terrible style.”

“Ye_p_.” Anthony laughed. “We’ll probably think the same of today’s fashion in ten years time.”

“Probably.” Az picked up his last slice. “Although, it’s not as if I subscribe to current fashion trends.”

“I’m a fan of skinny jeans, it’s the best thing this decade has given us.”

“That’s debatable.”

Anthony gasped, placing a hand to his chest. “Don’t say _that_. How would I saunter without my jeans?”

Az narrowed his eyes, and even though he was trying to argue, he was smiling. “I do like your walk.”

“_Thank _you!” He grinned. “It takes _skill_.”

“I can tell.”

They both smiled at each other, bright and full of joy. It was an agree to disagree type of situation (there was no way Az would change his mind about skinny jeans), but it was nice how easily they could banter, or bicker, in a light-hearted way.

It showed a true friendship.

Anthony looked over the remains of their meals. “Wanna get some hot drinks?”

Az was still beaming as he said, “Absolutely! We have plenty of time.”

That day… ended up being so perfect, Anthony would have thought it was a dream. But it was very, delightfully, real.


	3. Remembering

Anthony was busy cleaning the counter as five o’clock approached. The day had been a strange one. Sandalphon _always _made an appearance on a Wednesday, for as long as Anthony had worked there. But he had failed to make an appearance. It wasn’t like he cared too much, the less that guy was there, the better. Maybe he’d finally got the message that he was far from welcome.

As he began placing chairs on top of the tables, the bell jingled up front. Anthony turned, ready to tell the customer they didn’t have much time, only to see Az, standing there, looking a little swept off his feet.

“Az! What are you doing here so late?”

Az sighed. “There was… a man at the showroom today.” His shoulders slumped.

Anthony rushed over, guiding Az to the nearest seat. He quickly flicked the sign around on the door, it was five to five, they were practically closed anyway. He sat next to Az, looking at him carefully. “What happened?”

Az wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “This man in his thirties came in with this wonderous 1946 Triumph 1800 Roadster. It was his grandmother’s. It had been passed down the line and was truly treasured. But this man had lost his child, had recently lost his mother, and was ill himself. He was no longer able to drive the car. So he was selling it on to us. I gladly paid much more than what he wanted, the sentimentality of it was well worth the price. The whole story was tragic.” He took a breath, wringing his hands as small tears ran down his face. “It reminded me of how delicate life is. How short, how beautiful and how every single day is new. It can be horrible, but every _brilliant _day far outweighs the bad ones.”

Anthony smiled sadly. A car losing its owner was as bad as a pet losing theirs. Cars that were part of the family though… It must have been terrible for the poor thing. At least, if it was lucky, it would continue to live a glorious life. On the other hand, Az had been greatly affected by the story. Which was more than understandable. People were often hit with bad luck. It was why things like Shakespeare’s tragedies were so depressing, it reflected real life too much.

“Sounds rough.”

“Yes.” Az sniffed. “Well, after that, I didn’t want to be alone.” He slowly looked to Anthony, with soft eyes. He was always gentle with his gestures, his words, his aesthetic… but right now, he needed comfort.

Without thinking, Anthony placed his hand over Az’s. Hoping to give a little semblance that he wasn’t alone, not now, not ever. But… it was the first time they’d ever had skin to skin contact with one another. And in less than a second of touching, they both recoiled.

Had…?

Anthony stared at his hand, at his sleeve. It looked as if it had tried to fade into Az’s coat. As if everything was totally wrong. But… why, how, what? It didn’t make sense, it wasn’t possible. There were few things it could be. A trick of the light. Their imaginations giving them a mild hallucination after a tragic story. Magic…

All of which felt absurd and _wrong_.

“Do you ever… feel like you’re in the wrong body?” Az asked carefully. Quietly. From the corner of his eye, Anthony could see Az was just as bewildered as he was.

“Yes…” Anthony flexed his hand, furrowing his brow. “Don’t take this the wrong way but… I get that way with your body. Like… _I_ should look like that?”

Az snapped his head, catching Anthony’s wild stare. “I feel that way with yours.”

“How does that make any sense?”

“My dear, I don’t think we’re who we think we are.” He bit at his bottom lip, wringing his hands. “I’m fairly sure sleeves weren’t meant to change colour when touching another person.”

Anthony gazed at Az for a good moment… Once again, looking into his eyes, it wasn’t right somehow. The colour, the shape… “My mother calls me Zira, but that doesn’t feel like _me_. Zira Fell isn’t _my_ _name_.”

“But Anthony is in some way?”

“Yes! But, not entirely.”

“My father calls me Crow… but it’s wrong. Az only feels partly right.”

“That’s how I feel about Anthony.” He furrowed his brow more so, trying to puzzle it out. He made a string of half formed sounds before saying, “I guess all we _can _do is… hold hands?”

Az sharply inhaled, raising an eyebrow. “I suppose so.”

They gently held one another’s hand. It was strangely warming. The process – whatever it was – started immediately. Slowly, his sleeve change from black to peach, his clothes shifting to Az’s. His hair changed, feeling lighter. He was morphing into what he should have been all along, what he had always looked like. And then it was done. Just like that.

He patted himself down, staring. Everything was different, it was _right_. He quickly felt his face and realised– He fell off his chair, scrambling backwards, pressing himself against the wall. That man… He, he _knew _he was the light in his world. But he couldn’t remember! The memory… _memories _were right on the cusp of being found, but they were almost impossible to access. Like a locked room with its own key inside.

Az wasn’t his name, but a feeling told him it was close.

The man… slowly looked over, his gaze as soft as his smile. “Oh… Crowley…”

Crow– Oh… His name was Crowley! Of course it was… He knew, deep in his very being, that Crowley was his name, it was _right_. But his memories were scrambled, so scrambled. A fake life full of simple human things, mashed with a life so long that remembering came so easy, as a way to not lose the beginning.

But the man in front of him, the one thing that mattered… he couldn’t remember the name of. Never mind much else.

The man slowly moved towards Crowley, crouching by him. “My dear… what did they do to you?” He frowned, looking so incredibly sad. “What do you need me to tell you?”

Crowley opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He shook, pressing further into the wall. “I know I know your name… But I can’t find it.”

“You will…”

“No, you don’t understand.” His head hurt, a pressing ache inside, where the memory centre was. “It’s locked up, so tight, that I can’t pry it open.”

“You know me, and I know you, we’ve been friends for millennia. All those moments we’ve shared aren’t forgotten.” The man placed a warm comforting hand on Crowley’s knee. “All you have to do is remember.”

He closed his eyes; his mind was so clouded with _everything_. It was reordering itself too slowly… And that only made panic rise in him. “I can’t find it, angel!”

The man gasped softly. “You can do it… I believe in you. It’s _there_. You only have to find it, and you will.”

He opened his eyes, only to find… his angel, gazing so tenderly, with a small sliver of light shining on him like a beacon. Oh… Oh, how could he forget? All those years, all the best times spent together. It was impossible to forget all that. “A…” He let out a wet huff, one of relief. “Aziraphale…?”

Aziraphale lit up, grinning widely. “Yes. It’s me.”

Crowley could feel tears crawling down his cheeks. “How could I forget you, angel…?”

“Because the worst thing happened to us.” He sighed, looking troubled yet happy. “It feels like forever since I saw you.”

Crowley widened his eyes. “Shit… It’s 2020. We were gone for a year…”

“A year and a few months,” Aziraphale said, sounding haunted. “And we weren’t gone. We still had each other. We simply didn’t know everything.”

“They… tried to torture us. But we were in the wrong bodies for that.” He stroked his index finger under his right eye. “My eyes… are they normal?”

Aziraphale smiled brightly. “They are back to how they always were. And they’re as beautiful as always, my dear.”

He smiled, feeling the relief course through him. “I knew they were wrong the moment you stepped into the café.”

“Well, I knew from simply looking in a mirror that brown wasn’t the right colour. It doesn’t suit you like yellow does.”

“Thank you. That’s...” Crowley struggled with words; his eyes had always been… a subject. But Aziraphale’s expression became so gentle, so understanding.

“I know.”

He sat more neatly against the wall, raking his eyes over how ridiculously Aziraphale these clothes were. With a snap of his fingers, their outfits swapped with ease. It felt much better to be in black and red. He clenched and unclenched his hands. Now… there was the matter of what to do.

“If they find out, they will come for us, and it won’t be pretty,” he said, worry clouding his tone.

“Then they can’t find out.”

“They will.” Crowley sighed, glancing to the floor. “I’ve had Sandalphon monitoring me, and I’m fairly sure Michael had been posing as my mother. They’ll know something has changed if we stay.” He grasped Aziraphale’s hands. “We can run, to the country! It’ll be beautiful, and peaceful, and we might be safe.” He was pleading, but the last time he suggested running away, it had all gone wrong. So, pleading was all he had.

“You want… to run away? Instead of facing Hell and Heaven down? Look at what they did, shouldn’t we _do _something?”

“If we go back, they’ll do the same thing, or worse.”

Aziraphale slowly began to look content. “They don’t know we know each other…” He thinned his lips. “If we go now, they’ll know nothing.”

“Yes. Angel, we can run, and nobody can stop us.”

He turned his hands in Crowley’s, intertwining their fingers. Holding tight. “I hear the South Downs is good this time of year.”

Crowley grinned, feeling lighter and freer than ever. “Then that’s where we’ll go.” He bit at his lip. “Is my car still at the showroom?”

“It is.” Aziraphale beamed. “We can go get it, steal it back! And we can’t possibly forget Nathair.”

“No, we can’t…” So, he finally knew why the snake loved him so much. Their bond as two snakes outweighed any other. “We’ll have to pick up everything we need, but from there… we’ll be as free as we can be.”

“Then let’s do it, before anything else happens to us.”

\--

“Is Nathair secure?” Crowley asked, dumping the bags into the boot. They didn’t have much, at least not much they wanted or needed to take. They had to make it look like they hadn’t just run away if anyone came looking. Most of what they had was clothes, ornaments, a couple books (so far) and a snake.

“I’m fairly sure.”

Crowley closed the boot and appeared beside Aziraphale, assessing the set up. Nathair looked perfectly happy, in his box, padded with pillowcases. He’d be safe. And with the seatbelt wrapped around the box, it was unlikely he’d be hurt by any bump on the road.

“Looks good to me.”

Aziraphale glanced over his shoulder. “We’re all set?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He moved towards the passenger door, snapping his fingers. “The security cameras seemed to have had a malfunction. They no longer work and all their footage from the last week has been erased.”

Crowley eased into the Bentley, relaxing as he settled. It was good to be reunited with his car. “What about that time we went on the test drive?”

“That was erased from the backups.” Aziraphale smiled. “No one can prove you were ever here. As for me, who knows what happened to me?”

“Right then.” He started up the car. “To the bookshop.”

“I do hope they aren’t watching it.”

“It’s midnight, I’d say the odds are in our favour.”

“Let’s hope so.”

Crowley drove out of the showroom with ease, helped by the glass disappearing as they went through and reappearing after. He drove at a sensible forty miles an hour. Nathair’s safety was Crowley’s priority, beyond getting far from London as quickly as possible. Aziraphale kept glancing at him strangely during the relatively annoying journey through the streets. London was a typical city roads wise, with each junction and street being as complicated as possible.

And perhaps that was because a _few _(just a few) were Crowley’s doing.

After some time, they finally made it to the bookshop. As Crowley haphazardly parked up, Aziraphale grabbed a bag and ran inside. They had time, probably not much, but they had it. And while every book was important, the fact that they were running away without leaving much trace, meant Aziraphale could only take his most treasured and valued books.

Which was a shame, Crowley knew all too well how much each one meant.

Aziraphale returned with a full and heavy bag, carefully placing it in the back of the car before sliding into his seat. “I got the essentials.”

Crowley noted how Aziraphale looked less than… pleased with the situation. He’d have taken all the books, if he could have. “Maybe we can get more in a few years.”

“Perhaps.” He glanced to Crowley, smiling softly. “Come on, we can’t dawdle.”

And with that, they were back on the road.

The drive took them both on dual carriageways and narrow country roads. Queen songs played softly and quietly as the night gave way to the early hours of the morning. Not that it meant much, it was winter, and darkness leaked into the day this time of year. Still, it was beautifully peaceful. The near silence they had.

Eleven hours ago, they’d found themselves again. It was so easy to let go of the lives Heaven and Hell had given them. Not that those days and memories weren’t treasured. Spending time with Aziraphale in a different light, when neither knew who they were, it showed how strong their bond really was. It could survive even when their memories were lost. Nothing could change what was deep in their subconscious.

“Where are we going?” Crowley asked as they turned another precarious corner.

“We’re almost there.”

“But _where_?”

Aziraphale bit at his lip. “I may have… bought a cottage… in 2015.”

“Why…?”

“It was– _Well_, it was in case I… In case anything happened with Heaven.” He closed his eyes, resting his head back. “In case they found out, and we still had time, before Armageddon. To– To _run away_.”

Crowley felt himself smiling before it melted away with realisation. “But they found out too late…”

“Yes.”

“Oh, Aziraphale…” He looked to him briefly, wishing he could reach out, but he couldn’t, not on country roads that threatened to end them. “I suppose we’re running now though.”

“We are.”

“So, it’s not too different. Except Armageddon isn’t breathing down our necks now…”

Aziraphale sighed, shifting in his seat. “But Heaven and Hell are. Who knows how much time we have.”

“We’ll have plenty.” Crowley slowed down for a corner, practically stopping. He gazed at Aziraphale for a second, noting how sad he looked, how this was far from what either of them could have planned for. “If you want, we can come up with a plan.”

“A plan…” He sighed again. “Why can’t they leave us be, Crowley?”

“Because… because we shouldn’t _work_, but we do. An angel and a demon being friends is impossible to Heaven and Hell, yet here we are, best friends. We go against every principle they believe in.” He twisted his mouth. “_And _we had our part to play in stopping Armageddon. Leaving us alone, that’s not an option to them. Our suffering though? That’s always on the cards.”

“I wish it wasn’t. Is it too much to ask,” He briefly glanced upwards, “to be free?”

Crowley tapped his fingers against the wheel. “Apparently. Questions are never welcome.” He huffed. “Although… how much of this is God’s plan these days?”

“What do you mean…?”

“We have free will, don’t we?”

Aziraphale stayed quiet for a few too many seconds. “I suppose.”

“God isn’t controlling us, She laid the groundwork and left all us pieces to make a move. And the pieces decided we shouldn’t be left to live.”

“We could change that.”

“How?”

“By living quiet lives, by not drawing too much attention to ourselves.”

Crowley hummed, turning another sharp corner as Aziraphale pointed out the direction with his hands. “Is this cottage a good idea then?”

“It’s a couple of miles away from a few villages. About ten miles from a town. We will be isolated, but we have plenty of places to go.”

“Hm.” It sounded nice. The countryside could be awfully empty sometimes, but maybe that was what they needed. And it was certainly safer than in London, out in the open. “How much further?”

“Take the next left, and from there it’s a straight road to the cottage.”

Silence fell over them as they made the final leg of the journey. Going up the narrow road filled Crowley with anticipation. He was genuinely excited to find out what kind of house Aziraphale had picked out. The top of a roof peeked out above the trees as they neared. More and more of the cottage was revealed until Crowley was driving straight up to a gate that hadn’t seen movement in at least ten years.

Had… this poor thing been abandoned before Aziraphale bought it?

A quick miracle forced it to swing open and Crowley happily drove in, realising just how grand this cottage was. How it must have looked when it was first built and loved. The front garden was a bit of a mess and could only be called a front garden because of the hedge fencing that surrounded the place. Beyond that, Crowley had no doubt the fields were part of the property.

The cottage itself though, _that _had been maintained. No doubt by some angelic powers. Its stone was a light grey, with vines beginning to grow up at the bottom. Crowley would surely have to sort that out, didn’t those vines know they would weaken the structure of the cottage? Beyond that, the door sat in the middle, with windows either side. It seemed to be quite large, there were several extensions and two stories. There would certainly be room for the both of them. And if there was a back garden, Crowley wouldn’t mind delving back into gardening.

The cottage needed a little care, it needed to be owned again. Crowley was sure he and Aziraphale could fill the space easily.

“What do you think?” Aziraphale asked, staring out ahead, staring at their home.

“It’s perfect for us.”

“Really?”

“It’ll suit our needs and…” He smiled; this would be their _home_. That was exciting considering the mere thought of this was impossible to Anthony, just hours ago. But as himself now, this was a dream, to be in a peaceful place with Aziraphale, in the same house, sharing the same things, without having to worry about finding one another. He didn’t know he needed it until, well, that moment really. He positioned the car alongside the house, parking up. “It’s perfect, Aziraphale.”

“Ah… Good, that’s jolly good to hear.”

Crowley couldn’t help the small chuckle that left his lips. “Jolly good indeed.”

Aziraphale beamed at him.

\--

Crowley placed the final mug in the cupboard. “There! All finished.”

Aziraphale came up beside him, standing a little closer than what was normal for them, but that was fine, totally _fine_. “Wonderful. So, what do you think of the inside now?”

He grinned, turning from the cupboards to the kitchen sink that watched over the garden. “It was decent at first, and now we’ve made it better. Much better. Only the garden is left now.”

“What were you thinking?”

“Hmm. Wild roses would be a nice addition, authentic.”

“Lavender?”

“No, it stinks.” At Aziraphale’s pout, Crowley rolled his eyes. “It does, angel. The fact they put it in those stuffed toy heaters is more diabolical than anything I’ve ever done.”

Aziraphale opened his mouth, though, promptly stayed quiet. He got a sparkle in his eye. “We could grow strawberries!”

“We could… They’d be the best strawberries you’ve ever had, if they know what’s good for them.”

“Oh, so you’re still scaring plants then? To this day, I believe that orchid did nothing to you.”

That _orchid_ didn’t deserve such a title, it failed to be anything close to a species of orchid. “It knew what it did.”

“Alright, my dear.” Aziraphale pursed his lips. “What about a few trees? Magnolias, cherry blossoms, perhaps an oak.”

“Sounds like a good project.” He smiled as his eyes swept over the garden. “We need foxgloves, pansies, thistles, we need it all, angel!”

“I’m sure we’ll get it all, in time.” Aziraphale turned towards another cupboard. “Tea?”

Crowley swivelled around, leaning against the counter. “I’ll make you one of my hot chocolates if you make me tea.”

Instantly, Aziraphale lit up. If he was thankful to anything, it was to his subconscious, to Anthony, who had come up with a drink that managed to make his dear angel gleefully happy. “You would?”

“If you want…?”

“I assure you, I would have that hot chocolate all day long if I could.”

And if Crowley could, he would supply one all day long. But he didn’t say that aloud. “Good. Because I worked too hard on that recipe to let it go to waste.”

Aziraphale got the hot chocolate’s ingredients out, putting them to one side, as he picked out a tea bag, going over to hog the kettle. They worked away in their own parts of the kitchen, efficiently and with ease. Like they had been manoeuvring around each other for thousands of years in this one tiny space. As Aziraphale grabbed a spoon from the drawer, Crowley moved around him, slipping the mug into the microwave.

It was so easy.

As Crowley pulled the mug from the microwave, Aziraphale moved beside him, placing a mug of tea down. He passed over the hot chocolate and picked up the tea, breathing it in. Such a glorious drink smelled better in a fresh and peaceful environment. It was almost like being closer to nature once more, but maybe that was the cottage as a whole.

Something so distant to Eden, where it had all started, but had a slice of that paradise too.

“I can enjoy this hot chocolate much more now,” Aziraphale said, smiling as he raised the mug to his lips.

Crowley quirked an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Having six thousand years worth of memories back allows me to truly experience how unique and special this drink is.”

It wasn’t exactly Crowley’s fault if he blushed at that. After all, it was only a white hot chocolate with a good few grams of cinnamon in it, along with a sprinkle of ginger. Though that was a lot more than you’d get compared to most cafés. Milk hot chocolates with cream and marshmallows got a little samey.

“At the rate you drink them… I hope you don’t get sick of it.”

“Oh, I won’t, believe me.”

“Good to know.”

Aziraphale gestured to the tea. “And how is yours?”

“Perfect, as always. You do a good tea, angel.”

“Thank you.”

Crowley smiled, taking another sip. He sauntered over to the doorway, peering into the living room. “We could put the fire on, relax a little.”

“I think we need some rest after setting up this house.” Aziraphale walked out the kitchen, straight into the living room. Crowley followed behind, setting his tea on the nearest table, and crouched by the fire. Aziraphale, meanwhile, sat on the sofa, balancing his hot chocolate on his lap.

“Adding that extension shouldn’t have been as hard as it was.” He threw some logs into the fire and snapped his fingers, watching as it burst alight. He closed the grid and relished in the warmth it immediately gave off.

“No… But then, you did try to do everything at once.”

He shrugged, backing away to sit on the sofa. He curled into the corner, closing his eyes briefly. “Still.”

Aziraphale reached over, patting his knee. “Don’t work yourself too hard. We have time to make this our own.”

“After everything… I want it to be perfect for us.”

“And it will be, but not all at once.” He patted Crowley’s knee once more before drawing back. “Now, is there anything you would like to talk about?”

Crowley twisted his mouth. Ah. There was _one _thing he’d love to talk about. He whipped his glasses off, leaning forward. “You know about memes!”

Aziraphale lay his head back against the sofa. “Oh… no…”

“Oh yes.”


	4. Changing

“Crowley! Where _are _you?”

Crowley hissed, raising his head. He was a little busy at the moment, trying to stare Nathair down. Once again, and against all advice, he’d let Nathair out to roam the house. It had been… three days since he’d last been in his vivarium. Which was bad because Crowley had no idea what the snake was doing, eating, or if he’d hurt himself. Every time he’d tried to approach, Nathair had wiggled out of his hands and slithered away.

So, Crowley had resorted to pulling rank. He was currently in his snake form, watching Nathair with the deadliest glare possible. Except, that didn’t really work when Nathair knew fine well the Serpent of Eden wouldn’t _dare _hurt a single scale on any snake. Especially not him, not the snake he’d raised since birth.

Which had left them in this particular predicament. Staring till the… well, whatever it was that came home. He could never remember sayings; it wasn’t one of his talents. What _was _though, was staring contests. It was a tactic that surprised him greatly when it came to humans and messing about. Whenever he played, people usually cracked up at his eyes. It got them to lose so easily, especially in more modern times, when people accepted his eyes as contact lenses.

All he needed was a cyberpunk era full of people with modifications, then he could see what everyday life was like without the glasses again.

But… he was getting widely off course with the situation.

He inched closer to Nathair, hissing sternly. “Don’t make me fight you.”

Nathair poked his tongue out, tasting the air. Or tasting his words perhaps. He hissed back, a slight glint in his eyes. Which could only mean:_ ‘If you get to roam free, so do I.’_

“You can’t look after yourself. Your speciess is _Australian_, and this is the South of England.”

_‘The garden is littered with mice.’_

Crowley hissed lowly, glancing off to the side. Aziraphale feeding the birds with all the seeds on Earth was probably causing that problem. And if there were mice, there would be rats and all manner of different pests dreaming of ruining his precious garden. Then again, that wasn’t the main concern here. “How did you get outside?”

Nathair shrunk back a little. He knew he was in trouble. _‘There is a hole. In the fireplace. I crawled out.’_

With a sigh, Crowley lowered his head. “Will you get back in your vivarium? You’ll get too cold otherwisse.”

_‘I do feel a little chilly_._’_

“That’s bad for you.”

_‘I know…’_

“Oh!” Aziraphale uttered as he popped his head around the door. You see, Crowley had managed to find Nathair in the coat cupboard. And the two had been curled up in there for what felt like hours. “There you are! And I see you’ve found Nathair.”

Crowley nodded, or at least tried to make it look like a nod. Things were different in his snake form, that included body language. “I have.” He turned his attention back to Nathair, glaring once again. “Will you at least let yourself warm up?”

_‘You could keep the house warmer.’_

“No.”

_‘Yessss.’_

“Nathair, you may be a friend–”

_‘More like your child.’_

Crowley hissed, widening and flattening his neck. “I wil–”

_‘Don’t get angry over it. It’s true.’_

Were all snakes this infuriating or was it just Nathair, because Crowley was on his last nerve and he didn’t even know why he was so annoyed. “Aziraphale, help. He won’t listen.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips. “There is no reason why he can’t roam free.”

_‘See?! He agreessss!’_

Crowley narrowed his eyes. With a hiss he slithered out of the cupboard and morphed back into his human form. With a snap of his fingers, the cottage gained twenty percent more lights and warmed to a toasty twenty-nine degrees Celsius. “Is that alright?”

Nathair slunk out of the cupboard and curled around Crowley’s legs. _‘Thank you.’_

Aziraphale smiled at the both of them. “I do believe it’s a reasonable temperature now.”

“Thank Someone we were accustomed to a desert climate first.” Maybe a hotter house would be okay, with brighter lights to make it easier to bask.

“I always enjoyed the warmer countries.”

Crowley furrowed his brow. “Then why did you make _London_ your home?”

“The same could be asked of you, since you enjoy the sun so much.”

“I asked you first.”

Aziraphale swayed back and forth. Smiling a little. “Theatre. More specifically Shakespeare. I stayed because the plays and music kept progressing at an alarming rate.”

“Hm.” Crowley should have guessed. After all, he was talking to the one person who got locked up because he went looking for crêpes during the French Revolution. “I suppose it’s a warmer place _now_.”

“Ah, yes, Climate Change. Nasty business.” His brow crinkled. “Was that the humans or us?”

“Humans, I think. Who’s keeping score now anyway?”

“We should stop it, before _that _destroys the world.”

Crowley shrugged, sparing a look out the window. The air looked too warm for the time of year. It was only March; heatwaves weren’t supposed to happen in _March_. “It won’t destroy the world.”

“But it will destroy life.”

“_Well… _I _could _tempt a few politicians and billionaires over to the left side of thinking.”

“If the UK drastically changed their approach, others might see the errors of their ways.” Aziraphale’s lips curled. “Turning the Tories to the centre would be a good place to start in that respect.”

“We could sneak in on a Wednesday, it wouldn’t take too much work.” Crowley slunk his hand into his pocket, turning more towards Aziraphale. “Of course, Heaven and Hell would notice. And going into London could doom us.”

“It’s been months.” He raised an eyebrow. “What is the time limit some scientists give the planet?”

“Some say 2040, others say 2030, a select few say _right now_.”

“Then surely we can’t wait.”

Crowley pursed his lips, nodding. “And who’s to say this isn’t part of the Ineffable Plan?”

“_Exactly_.” Aziraphale beamed with vim and vigour.

There was a loud hiss. They turned to find Nathair, tangled up in a blanket on the sofa. Crowley couldn’t help bursting into laughter as he made his way over, helping out his poor snake. The hissing continued right up until Aziraphale snapped his fingers. The blanket teleported away, and Nathair finally relaxed, coiling up and retreating back.

“I swear to Someone,” Crowley whispered, shaking his head.

Aziraphale chuckled away, approaching swiftly and placing his hand at Crowley’s back. “He’s only a child.”

“_Pfft_, _child_.” He wasn’t quite a mature adult yet, but he was getting there. Crowley was about to say something else but suddenly _remembered_! “Cows! Of course, it was cows!”

Aziraphale gave out a small sigh, tilting his head slightly. “What did you forget now, my dear?”

“What came home… I’ve gotta brush up on my phrases.”

“I have a book.”

“It better have an index,” he grumbled, still staring at Nathair, who was surely ignoring them both now. “Anyway,” He clapped his hands together, “we have work to do. Let’s fix the world.”

“Yes…” Aziraphale’s expression collapsed into such a soft look, tender and full of hope, “let’s.”

\--

Crowley straightened his jacket and tossed a look over his shoulder. He was sure he’d never seen more surprised looks, than when the (very conservative) PM stood up to answer a question about Climate Change from… a Green Party MP (he believed) and came out with an answer so politically sided to the left, that the _whole _of Commons erupted in applause. They’d actually outright said that wind farms would be built around the whole island by the end of the year, and that they’d make good use out of wave and tidal power.

And as PMQs went on, with more ‘for the many not the few’ sentiments coming out of the PM’s mouth, the whole Leftist side of Commons were a sight to behold. Mouths wide with shock. And other Conservatives took it in their stride. Unfortunately, by the looks of things, UKIP could only be swayed to the centre right, but that was better than nothing at all.

“I do believe that’s what they call ‘playing with fire’.” Aziraphale glanced around, looping an arm around Crowley’s. “What do you say to lunch at a pub in the Lake District? I hear it rains less this time of year.”

Crowley barked a laugh. “We just swayed the entirety of Commons to the Left, and you’re craving lunch.”

“It _was _hard work, my dear.”

He threw his head back, laughing and grinning. “Okay. As long as the pub is humble.”

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes. “I believe I know just the place.”

With a snap of his fingers, they were gone from London and stood in front of a pub in a quaint village. Trees surrounded the place, the air was crisp in the way it was in the country, and it was _much _colder than the South Downs. Rain was surely in the clouds above them, and it would come down soon enough. So much for ‘it rains less this time of year’, but oh well, this National Park was infamous for its rain and water, after all.

Crowley spared a glance to the sign of the pub. ‘Ye Olde Battleaxe’. He immediately had questions. First, why the name? Second, why had Aziraphale dined here? Third, who really used ye olde anymore? The pub looked old, very old, but the name… wasn’t very traditional.

“Before you start stumbling over yourself,” Aziraphale began, walking forward, “I came here first when it was the ‘The Axe Inn’. They renamed it in the 1990s, I believe.”

“Well, that explains it.” Crowley followed Aziraphale inside, immediately struck by how wooden, old and traditional it all was. “When did you first come here?”

“1440. I was in the area, and I was peckish.”

“Of course.” He chuckled softly at the thought of Aziraphale finishing up a few miracles and finding a pub like this, probably more like a tavern back then, and deciding to have a nibble. And somehow staying up to date with it over the years. Must have done a bloody good stew, or pie, or whatever.

Aziraphale placed his hands on the bar, leaning forward. “Could we get a table for two, please?”

The person behind the bar, who’d looked utterly bored, lit up with a smile. “Absolutely. Follow me.”

They got seated in a cosy corner with a window just to the side of them. Only a few tables were empty. There was no doubt that most of the consumers were locals. Which would… explain why the worker had lit up to such a degree. Aziraphale’s accent was posh, his clothes too. They would expect them to spend a ton of money.

A small TV blared in the corner though, one brief look told Crowley all he needed to know. It was on the BBC news channel, where the journalists were going through all the details that had emerged today. The people talking looked uncomfortable, as if they were realising that with the Tories suddenly shifting to the centre, that the media would have to follow suit. Perhaps it would do the BBC good, maybe they would go back to balanced journalism.

“It’s interesting, isn’t it?” a young waiter asked, coming up to their table. Clearly, they’d noticed Crowley staring. “I never expected Tories to do anything about Climate Change.”

“Mm, yeah. It is strange.”

Aziraphale placed his menu down, glancing to the waiter. “I suppose it’s a good thing. We have so little time to change things.”

By immortal standards, a few decades could sometimes feel like a couple years. Time was fickle and leaving something like Climate Change to spiral out of control wasn’t particularly a good thing.

“_Oh_, don’t we all know it! And if it’s left, _my _generation will have to clean up the mess.” The waiter sighed, shaking their head. “Hopefully, the Tories follow through with their plans.”

Crowley picked up his menu, smirking. “For their sake, they better.”

Aziraphale tsked, rolling his eyes minutely. As if he was being dramatic.

But Crowley meant it.

They swiftly ordered their drinks, and with a small smile, the waiter whisked away. The news was now going on about how it surely couldn’t be true. That it was _too good _to be true. That everyone was missing something. Luckily for everyone though, the environment secretary was in the middle of making a statement, promising that the first steps for overhauling the UK’s energy industry would be carried out the very next day. And that coal plants would be phased out by the end of the year.

Progress was beginning.

“We’ve done something truly in favour of the world and the humans today,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley slowly smiled. “Being on our own side allows us to do this.”

“And we’re on the side of Earth?”

“And the humans.”

“Good.” Aziraphale beamed, his expression so bright and hopeful.

“Every so often, we can do something big like this.” He felt an urge to reach out, to tangle his fingers with Aziraphale’s, but he resisted. He wasn’t bringing _that _up now. Instead, he leant his head on his hand. “The rest of the time… it’ll be the little things.”

“I’ll look forward to every moment.”

Crowley felt his whole chest constrict at that. This… felt right for them, it really did.

\--

“Angel!” Crowley struggled with all the bags, trying to – stupidly – get all of them out at once. “Stop observing the wild flowers and… help me!”

Aziraphale turned, shaking his head once he saw the mess Crowley had gotten himself into. It wasn’t his fault; he’d only wanted to be efficient. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m aware. I’m pretty sure the cooler bag is tangled with the tote bag.”

“Why did you attempt this?” Aziraphale took the cooler bag from Crowley’s shoulder and shucked it off the tote bag, placing it over his own shoulder.

Crowley proceeded to push the tote bag further up his arm and held the picnic basket up. Thank Someone everything had made it out okay. “I was trying to be– I wanted to see if I could carry everything, so you didn’t have to.”

“How very chivalrous of you.” He smirked as Crowley rolled his eyes.

“Let’s just find a spot.”

They’d decided to have a day out, at a woodland park. Which had included some _extremely _narrow roads which the Bentley did not approve of. Despite that, the sun was out, casting light down through the trees, making the place glow bright amongst the shadows of leaves. There were families around them, fussing with kids trying to run straight into the woods. Couples were hefting their dogs out the car. And a group of people with advanced walking gear were on their return from the depths of the woods.

“It feels loved,” Aziraphale whispered, smiling.

“I guessed it would.” Crowley noticed a kid climbing up a tree, their parents recording on their phones. “Lots of happy people here.”

“I believe, for humans, being in the woods brings them back to an old instinct. Makes them feel connected to nature.”

“To the Garden.”

“Yes.”

Crowley twisted his mouth. “A longing to it they don’t understand.”

Aziraphale nodded. “I suppose it’s how the human instinct works.”

“Mm, an ancient memory descendants couldn’t possibly remember.”

“Exactly.”

They came to a stop at an impasse. With signs pointing to each trail and sight in the woods. Aziraphale instantly lit up, gesturing to the left most path.

“Shall we go to the lake?”

Crowley smiled. “A picnic by a lake… Sounds good.”

Aziraphale had a hope in his step as they made their way down a gentle slope. Birds sang, tweeted and chirped at each other loudly, free as a… well, a bird. Bushes rustled with small mammals skittering about. Crowley was sure he spotted a fox too, trying to catch some scuttling rabbits. At a guess, it wasn’t just the humans that had a love for this place, it was the other animals too.

And it was highly probable that this wood could have a good few Adders in it. Though, he doubted anyone would see a snake on this particular day. The species was a little too shy for that.

As the trees became less dense, the area opened up to the lake. It was quite large – though you’d easily walk around it in twenty minutes – and had a small island in the middle, filled with a couple trees, ferns and flowers.

Warm light shone down on the area, creating a lovely glow. There were plenty of picnic benches too, and the area was bustling with people. Some sat in the sun, near the lake, while others were eating lunch on a bench.

It was… romantic.

Aziraphale, with a firm grin on his face, picked out a spot near to the lake, half in the sun, half in the shade. Crowley placed the tote bag down, pulling a blanket from it and gently spreading it over the ground. Meanwhile, Aziraphale opened up their cooler and pulled a wine bottle out. They slowly set up, with Aziraphale sticking to the shade as Crowley soaked up the sun.

Soon enough, they had a blanket full of cakes, crêpes, sushi, chorizo Scotch Eggs, and a few chicken wraps. They also had a rather nice bottle of red wine and two glasses. (Though, Crowley would surely sober up before getting back into the car. No miracle would save them if he crashed off the narrow roads that threatened to discorporate them).

Crowley took a Scotch Egg, throwing it between his hands as he watched Aziraphale dig into a few bits of sushi and a cake. He nibbled away at his snack, smiling at the way Aziraphale lit up with each bite. They’d been careful with their food choices, making sure they only brought the best, top quality stuff. Although, Crowley had baked each of the cakes.

If there was one thing he was glad for, it was that café. It had given him the one skill he’d intended to learn for centuries. Aziraphale loved his cakes and complimented his skill and technique every time, which never failed to make Crowley blush.

“These strawberry fondant fancies are better than Mr Kipling.”

Crowley choked on the wine he’d _just _began to swallow. He spat most of it out, coughing violently. He slowly regained composure as Aziraphale began rubbing his back, giving him small helpful whacks. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and let out a breath. “You can’t say that.”

“Say what?”

“That they’re better than Mr Kipling. _Nothing _is better than Mr Kipling.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, dear.” Aziraphale pointed with his fork to the fondant fancy currently on his plate. “This is beautiful. Balanced and sweetened to my exact tastes.”

Crowley fiddled with his sleeve, feeling the blush rise upon his cheeks. Sometimes, he swore Aziraphale did it on purpose. “Glad you like it so much.”

“I do!” He grinned, so bright that Crowley felt a violent warm pang hit him right in the chest.

And wasn’t _that _something he liked to ignore but kept rearing its head. He knew what it was, what the warmth meant, the pain in his chest when Aziraphale did something cute. Love. Beautiful, perfect, love. He couldn’t help it. It had grown throughout the ages and he’d been hopeless to it, had fallen early on, probably back in Eden, and he’d realised how desperately in love he was in 1862. Wasn’t there a song that said you didn’t know your lover till you let them go?

Because that’s what 1862 had been. And 1967 had twisted a knife into the wound.

But they were here, now, in 2021, peaceful, happy, content with life and free.

Maybe it was time to finally say it. Speak the words he had buried deep down, tried to keep from growing, but were inevitable nonetheless. He couldn’t keep it a secret forever, or it would slip out in some ill-timed moment. No, this picnic, this lake, it was romantic. It was right. He could speak those words right now.

All he had to do was say it.

Easy…

He opened his mouth, ready as ever, when there was a piercing scream and a large splash.

Crowley whipped up in an instant, swiftly taking note of the situation. There was a kid, a girl, sniggering and pointing, she looked as if she was thirteen. And in the lake was a kid no older than eight. Looked as if the girl had thrown the younger kid into the water. If the kid knew how to swim, it surely wasn’t helping them in their panic. This was a malicious attack.

He barely had to think before he’d miracled a towel, ran to the edge of the lake and waded in, holding out his hand to the kid. A woman was shouting behind him, but all noise faded out as he focused on the child in front of him.

“Come on, grab my hand…” He waded a little more in, not wanting to merely wrench the kid out, they were already terrified enough. But they were managing to hold on, barely staying above water.

The kid reached out, placing their hand in Crowley’s. He sighed with relief as he calmly walked backwards. They followed, beginning to kick their legs. It allowed Crowley to relax as they both reached the shore. In an instant, he wrapped the towel around the child, crouching down to eye level.

“Are you alright?”

The child nodded, whispering, “Thank you.”

A woman came running up, falling to her knees and wrapping the child in her arms. “I’ve already told your sister off. I’m glad you’re okay.”

The child shivered, and the woman – presumably their mother – pulled back, rubbing their arms down. Seeming content, she stood up, holding her child’s hand.

“Thank you, that was very kind.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble.” Crowley glanced down at his clothes, noticing how they’d stuck to his body. He snapped his fingers behind his back, they’d surely dry quicker than clothes normally should. “Your child was in danger, I had to help.”

“Well, I’m sure Sam was happy for the assist.”

Crowley spared a glance to Sam, smiling. “Remember, what doesn’t harm you makes you stronger.”

Sam grinned, nodding.

The mother gave another glad look before guiding Sam back to their table, where a thirteen-year-old was getting a stern telling off by an old lady. Crowley would do something, but he was sure the family was going to roast the girl to near oblivion. With a small smile, he turned, heading back to the picnic blanket.

When he approached, Aziraphale had this stunned look on his face. Like he was frozen in place, in a constant state of shock, or awe, he wasn’t sure. It was surely a sight to behold though. His expression matched several different memes, at least. Almost a mix of a surprised Pikachu and one of those happy pictures filled with emoji hearts.

“Aziraphale…?”

In an instant, he snapped out of it, staring at Crowley, smiling slowly. “I barely had time to register what you were doing, you know.” His smile grew. “You really do care for kids.”

Crowley shrugged and sat down. “They’re innocent, most of the time. They deserve care.”

“Of course they do. It’s just lovely to see you in action.”

“Yeah, well, anyone would have done it, really.”

Aziraphale picked at the blanket. “I wish that was true.” He brightened up in the next second. “I know you won’t accept ‘nice’, but you _are _kind, which is different, so don’t get angry.”

He barked a small laugh. “I’ll accept kind.”

“And…”

“And what?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes. That wasn’t unusual per se, Aziraphale tended to drop thoughts, but the weight in his eyes was too strong for it to be nothing. “No, it’s definitely something.”

Aziraphale sat up a little straighter, seeming to get comfortable. He inched towards Crowley, but still kept some distance. The weight in his eyes lifted for a brief moment as he sucked in a breath. “It’s why I’m in love with you.”

“You…” He took a stabilising breath, trying to prevent bursting from happiness. His ears were buzzing with some kind of white noise, his chest tight, he could barely think past the headache that had appeared. He felt relieved, amongst everything else, that his love was not unrequited. “Truly?”

“Yes.”

Crowley reached forward, gently taking Aziraphale’s hand into his own. “I love you too.”

Aziraphale breathed slow, his eyes lighting up as his lips stretched in a soft, wonderful smile. “Truly?” he parroted.

“Yes.”

“Well… this has gone better than expected.”

“Come here, angel.”

They shuffled closer to each other, and Crowley slowly pulled Aziraphale into a near crushing hug. Finally, finally, he’d said it, and he hadn’t even started the conversation! Which had been comforting, since he would have said it centuries sooner, if not for all the hiccups they’d had. But they were as safe as they could be now. Cut from Hell and Heaven, they could admit it, without previous fears.

The only thing that had been stopping Crowley, was Aziraphale rejecting him and taking it badly. But that didn’t happen, Aziraphale had said it first. Perhaps that was the true push he’d needed, confirmation.

The warmth of the hug added such a depth to it, letting comfort settle in him peacefully. This day couldn’t have gone better if he tried.

Aziraphale turned his head, nuzzling into Crowley’s neck. “Where do we go from here?”

He pulled back slightly, gazing into Aziraphale’s eyes. “I suppose there isn’t much that can change. But… now we don’t have to keep any feelings secret, things can be a lot more… natural. We don’t have to find excuses to touch, for one.” He brought a hand up to his cheek, caressing. “And… if you– you want, we could kiss, when we want to…”

“I… I’d like that. Kissing.”

“Would you like to–”

“Yes.”

Crowley closed the distance, pressing his lips against Aziraphale’s. A soft warmth spread through his body. It was brief, too brief, but for as long as he’d wanted this, maybe it was time to slow down. The transition from friends to… whatever, needed to be treated with delicacy. One tiny kiss was all he needed right now.

They would have time to explore later, when they weren’t in the middle of some woods.

Aziraphale smiled as they both withdrew. He was practically glowing. “This is a dream come true…”

“It is for me too.” He glanced to the bright lake, then to the picnic in front of them. A perfect setting for a new path of their long relationship to begin. “All I want to do is go snake and lie in your lap.”

“Oh, my dear, that sounds lovely.” Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand, grasping it, holding loosely. “How about we finish up this picnic, and then go home and sit by the fire?”

Crowley reached for a slice of Battenberg, settling his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “I like the idea of that. I’d wouldn’t mind a cosy night.”

“Then it’s a plan. But only once we eat all this food.”

He snorted. Of course, the food always came first, and always would. “You’ll have to shift most of it, angel.”

“I wouldn’t expect any different.”

They spent the rest of the picnic pressed up against each other. Navigating through the new world of being able to have more than fleeting touches. Normally, touch was an accident, and happened more when drunk (not that they weren’t halfway tipsy). But a single touch could last far more than a second now, and it felt _wonderful_. All the stresses of unrequited feelings had melted away to reveal something beautifully new, tender and loving.

As the afternoon drifted away, turning the light around them into shadows, they packed up and headed back to the Bentley. Hand in hand, of course. Traversing through the wood once more, it felt highly romantic now, with all of nature there to watch. The mood, the atmosphere, had drastically changed since the morning.

And it was perfect.

They chatted easily on the ride home, listening to quiet music. Crowley wasn’t even bothered by the narrow roads. He’d become hopeless in an instant, filled with love. It flowed between them in the car, with each word, each glance, each smile.

The first thing Aziraphale did when they got back was start the fire. Their firewood was miraculously climate friendly, so they could afford a good few fires if they were in the mood. It lit up their living room in a golden orange light. Crowley breathed the warmth in, flopping down on the sofa. He whipped his glasses off, setting them on the floor. Aziraphale made his way over, picking a book up on the way. An Oscar Wilde one if he wasn’t mistaken. As he sat, Crowley placed his head on his lap, grinning up at him.

“Do you mind?” he asked.

Aziraphale shook his head, beaming. Gently, he brushed his fingers through Crowley’s hair, playing with the strands. “Not at all, my dear.”

“Good.” He nuzzled into his belly. “It’s comfy here, might go to sleep.”

“I’m comfy, am I?”

“Mmm.”

With a soft chuckle, Aziraphale settled his hand in Crowley’s hair, massaging his scalp gently. “I’ll keep that in mind. Should I expect you to crawl into my lap on a regular basis?”

Crowley nodded, too sleepy to say anything. He nuzzled further in, letting his mind drift. Aziraphale kept massaging his scalp, though it felt like an absentminded action. A natural form of intimacy he was doing on instinct. And it sent him straight into the depths of sleep.

Though, while he was dozing in and out, he heard Aziraphale say, “Rest well, my love.”


	5. Free

Crowley had a good look at his foxglove, it appeared to be doing well, considering slugs had raided the garden. He was trying to be more balanced with the plants these days, choosing not to destroy them for a mistake, and instead taking them to the worst part of the garden, where there was more shade and the soil was lower in quality.

He'd been out in the garden for a good… six or so hours now, sorting through each plant. He was keeping a close eye on their growth, as well as everything else. But he had _filled _what used to be a grassy space to the brim with plants, of all kinds. They had a winding stone path, circling many flower beds, curving around trees, and going up either side of their long back garden.

He was moving on to inspect his phacelia when he heard the back door slide open.

“Crowley!”

Crowley spun on his heel, quickly cataloguing how ruffled Aziraphale was. He’d been drinking, a lot, it seemed. There was no doubt he’d been curled up in his chair, reading a book while downing glasses of wine at the most interesting and tense parts. He’d probably had the fire on too, despite it being the middle of summer. A nice cosy morning and afternoon.

With a firm smile plastered on his face, Crowley strolled up to Aziraphale. “How many bottles have you gotten through?”

Aziraphale pursed his lips, in almost a frown. “I’ve had… three.” He held his fingers up as he’d said it. Except…

“You’re only holding up two fingers.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale corrected it to three and Crowley chuckled softly.

“You’re hilarious, angel.” He leant in, wrapping an arm around his waist, nuzzling his neck. “Might have to down some scotch to catch up.”

“I could always sober up.”

“Noo…” He turned his head, resting his cheek on Aziraphale’s shoulder, smiling up at him. “I fancy some drunk wing grooming, if you’d like.”

Aziraphale lit up. “I’ll sort the music and glasses, you grab the scotch, and some more wine.”

“On it.”

Crowley practically launched into the house, sliding along their glossy wooden floors, nearly smashing directly into each wall, before jumping down the steps to their little cellar full of all the alcohol they could ever need. He picked up the wicker basket they kept by the stairs and gently placed a good few bottles in. Enough to get him drunk, first of all, and a weak wine to keep them pleasantly drunk right through the evening.

As he walked back up the stairs, he opened one bottle of scotch, beginning to down it as he headed to the bedroom. It had become a little of a routine to groom each other’s wings over the last year. He’d been right about nothing changing, much. They were much less touched starved these days, for one thing. And while they sometimes took to their own activities, they spent the evenings together, cosied up, warm and safe.

It was easy to fall into comfort after so long. It certainly didn’t seem like Hell and Heaven were coming after them _now_. Not after almost two years since running away.

He sauntered into the bedroom, a room with a perfect mix of cream, red, black and white. A perfect combination of their favourite colours.

What had drawn Crowley’s eye was Aziraphale, sitting at his side of the bed, his wings curling around him like a big fluffy coat. He was dressed in his soft pyjamas. The blue ones with a wing pattern Crowley had gotten him. He slowly meandered his way to the bed, sliding on to it and pushing the basket to Aziraphale.

“Open the other bottle of scotch, will you?” He grinned as he slipped off the bed, heading over to the drawer. “Red or black?”

Aziraphale hummed thoughtfully. “What about the black silky nightgown, dear?”

Crowley smiled, picking it out and setting it down. “You just like to see me in a dress.”

“That I do.”

He got changed with haste, feeling far more comfortable in his loose yet well-fitting nightgown than his tight jeans. But in his usual everyday clothes, he had to sacrifice comfort for style. Otherwise, what would be the point of style?

He let his wings spread into existence, sighing blissfully as he allowed them a good stretch.

Smoothing his hands down his sides, he made his way to the bed, crawling up to Aziraphale, who offered the scotch to him, which he took, quickly downing it and casting it aside. He could feel the alcohol slowly take hold of his system. Aziraphale gently spread his wings, allowing Crowley to lay his chin on his shoulder, snaking his arms around his middle.

“Have you got the cream?” Crowley asked, closing his eyes as he sunk into peacefulness. Romantic music quietly filled the air, the softness of it was delightful.

Aziraphale reached for the bedside table, no doubt grabbing the stuff. One day, when watching birds in the sixteenth century – he couldn’t quite remember the exact year now – they noticed that some birds had a preening gland. They spread oil onto their wings to keep them nice and healthy, well preserved.

Angels and demons didn’t have that, their wings were naturally ‘perfect’ in terms of flexibility and waterproofing, so there was no need to have a gland for oil, or to produce powder down. Despite them being ‘perfect’ in that respect, they still had to remove dust and dirt, and align each feather into the right position.

Although, after that day of watching the birds, both had tried types of oils and powders to see how it would affect their wings. Every so often either one of them would bring the topic up again, and neither had found anything that made a difference until the twentieth century. It was Aziraphale who had discovered the perfect creamy oil that made their feathers shiny and better protected.

And it felt even better to have another spread it on, as they had found out last year.

“Could I do yours first, my dear?” Aziraphale whispered, as if this ritual was too precious to talk any louder. It was, in a way.

“Yes.” He pressed a small kiss to Aziraphale’s cheek before turning around.

He couldn’t help the soft breath escaping his lips as Aziraphale brushed his fingers through a couple of feathers. He tended to go from left to right, and this time was no different. It was a slow process of shaking off the dust that somehow managed to collect. He gently sipped at the wine he’d poured, letting time ebb and flow and escape his mind as he relaxed into it.

Aziraphale, at one point, tapped his arm, which was a signal to shake his wings. Which he did. It shook off the rest of the dirt and dust, ready for the creamy oil to be applied. He sipped at more of the wine, sighing with pleasure as Aziraphale began to apply a thin layer of cream to the first feather. The touch was so exhilaratingly calming, the cream making his feathers feel lighter as Aziraphale took care of each one.

He let his head fall back, closing his eyes. It was always so methodical, gentle, and soothing. Even more so when pleasantly drunk. It was unlike anything else. The height of intimacy between them. Perfect in every way. It allowed their love to freely flow, the only noise being their breaths, Crowley’s small sounds of pleasure, and the music.

A wonderful moment, and purely intoxicating.

Soon enough, Aziraphale was done. He made that known by, first, kissing his neck, and second, by turning Crowley’s head and kissing him sweetly on the lips. He smiled into it, letting it last and linger before pulling back, lifting his chin slightly.

Aziraphale turned, and Crowley moved behind him, beginning the process the same way he always did, by tickling Aziraphale at the base of his wings. He let out spluttered laughter, drawing in heavy breaths as Crowley gave him a good ol’ tickle. He gave him mercy, though, kissing Aziraphale between the shoulder blades. As they both settled back into silence, Crowley brushed out the dust clinging to the feathers, and watched as the slight greyness made way for nearly blinding white.

Ever since they had begun to groom each other, Aziraphale’s wings were in much better condition. Considering he forgot to preen centuries at a time. But with Crowley insistent on the activity, they tended to groom each other three times a week now. They were, more often than not, sober for it, but when they were drunk, it made it all the more intense.

Aligning each feather and applying the cream was Crowley’s favourite part. Each touch made Aziraphale shiver, made his wings softly flutter. Like a perfect display of how much he loved this, how much he loved _Crowley _doing it. A way of saying ‘I love you’ over and over, with every single movement. It was so tranquil, these moments, and nothing could beat it. Nothing at all.

As he carefully finished off the last few feathers, he put the lid back on the cream, and hugged Aziraphale tightly. Closing his eyes, he pressed his cheek up against Aziraphale’s, and they sat there for a good while. Though, it wasn’t long before Aziraphale turned in the hold, stretching his wings and pressing them against Crowley’s. It sent a lovely jolt through him, as it always did.

He moved closer to Aziraphale, making sure their wings were still touching, and kissed him. Their wings fluttered as they went to deepen the kiss. They were in tune with each other, knowing exactly what the other wanted or needed. It was like that, after grooming. A delicate way to settle their emotions.

As they both pulled back slightly, Crowley lay his forehead on Aziraphale’s, keeping his eyes closed.

“I love you,” he said, pushing every sense of the word into his tone.

“I love you too, my dear.”

\--

“We should go to an antique shop!” Aziraphale exclaimed, all of a sudden, despite the silent, tranquil environment they’d created on a rainy Wednesday morning.

Crowley thought it over though, the idea was intriguing. “I was thinking about getting some old jewellery. They don’t make it proper these days.” He swung his feet off Aziraphale’s lap and sat up. “Where would you suggest we go?”

“Tetbury. In the Cotswolds. It’s a town known for its antique shops, there’s a lot of them.”

“Been before?”

Aziraphale had a twinkle in his eye. “Yes. It’s very lovely, a lot of old buildings.”

“We could take the Bentley. It’ll only take a couple hours or so to get there, and we can eat after looking.” He found himself smiling, days out were a welcome joy these days.

“Sounds delightful.”

They readied themselves and got into the Bentley rather quickly, eager to see what the world of antiques had on offer these days. Crowley had no doubt there would be a lot of twentieth century stuff, and not a lot of anything before then. But maybe a shop could surprise him.

It didn’t quite take two hours to get there, considering all the speeding he did. Really, he shouldn’t, but where was the fun in sticking to that particular law? The Bentley could be wonderfully fast, she deserved a good run every so often. The car park miraculously had a perfect space just for the Bentley, though there were a few empty spaces, perhaps because of the gloomy day.

They walked arm and arm along a rather charming and old looking street. At the first antique shop, Aziraphale turned sharply, practically dragging Crowley inside. He’d been distracted by a bird stalling a car by standing in the road, so he hadn’t been prepared for Aziraphale’s excitement, nor had he noticed an antique shop had been right next to them.

At first glance, the place was overwhelming. Items lined the floor, filled tables, covered the walls. Every single space that was available had some trinket in it. Crowley instantly recognised some long dead items that merely existed for collectors to obsess over. Antique shops were a place for history to survive and thrive, to find a place to be treasured again. Unlike museums that kept objects under lock and key. (Which for most things made sense, but not for others).

They explored much of the shop together, before Aziraphale got far too distracted with a whole box full of old pens and quills. Crowley became slowly bored of only watching, and wandered off to a glass cabinet. The thing was practically shining with silver and gold. He beckoned over one staff member, who happily opened it up for him.

He was drawn to a glass necklace with swirls of red in it. A rather charming piece, in the shape of an eagle’s wing. It wasn’t for him, really, so he kept looking, browsing the case for an older piece. There were a couple necklaces that were Victorian, clear from the excessive use of gems in a respectable fashion. But still, not what he wanted. Not that he _knew_ what he wanted.

Eventually, something caught his eye when he was having a quick look at some pearl earrings. A pocket mirror. He picked it up, noting how it was embossed with flowers and angels. The mirror was impeccable quality too, for the age. It would certainly be more efficient than his phone screen, or a front facing camera, when he was out and about.

He was about to inquire about the best price for it when something hit him. A feeling.

Furrowing his brow, he slowly placed the box down. What the… It was like, all of a sudden, the place was overflowing with goodness and evil. Panic rose in him. Only certain things, certain _people _felt like that. He backed away from the cabinet, leaving the staff member in the lurch as he rushed across the shop. He stopped directly behind Aziraphale, leaning close.

“I think they have caught up to us.”

Aziraphale hummed, picking up a letter opener as if nothing was wrong. “Yes, I do believe they have.”

“We can run.”

“You and I both know they’ll have the exits blocked.”

Crowley glanced over his shoulder, casually looking to a set of paintings on the wall, letting his eyes slide to the front door. There was a sense of dread slowly creeping up on him. “Then we can teleport out. It’s our only option.”

“What about the humans?” Aziraphale tilted his head towards the people browsing the shop.

“They’ll get over it, or they won’t notice.” Crowley wrapped his arm around Aziraphale’s. “Please, angel, we can escape.”

“What about your car? We can’t leave her, they’ll _do _something.”

Crowley closed his eyes. “We don’t have much time to decide. They’ll have her.”

“We can teleport directly into her. Just… remember what happened last time something happened to her.”

“You’re sure? Because this could get us killed.”

“I’d hate to see you grieve.” Aziraphale patted his arm. “Come on, I believe they’re closing in.”

With a snap of his fingers, they were gone, and sitting in his beloved Bentley. It took him a second to gain composure, before he was reversing out of the parking space. Thank Someone the small car park wasn’t too full, as he quickly made his exit a little haphazardly. They were blasting up the road at ninety in no time.

“See? We’re fine, no–”

Whatever Aziraphale was about to say was abruptly cut off as they came to a screeching halt. Well… fuck, Crowley hadn’t done that. It was obvious who had when Gabriel and Beelzebub stepped into the road. He tried to step on the accelerator, go as fast as he could, but there was no moving the Bentley. Some miracle was stopping that from happening.

He glanced to Aziraphale, feeling that dread overtake him. “It was nice, what we had.”

“It’s not over yet.” Aziraphale reached over, grasping Crowley’s hand. “All we can do is get out and face them… But we’re not dying.”

Crowley turned his hand in Aziraphale’s, kissing it lightly. They gave each other small smiles, but they lacked the reassurance they both needed. They got out at once, walking towards Gabriel and Beelzebub slowly. Marked for death, that’s what they were. Was there any way out of this?

“You’ve had us on our toes for some time,” Gabriel said, his expression dark. If Crowley didn’t know exactly what he was, that look, the way his eyes were as dead as his smile, he would have mistaken him for a demon in that moment.

“_Well_,” Crowley drawled, “I suppose that’s what happens when you can’t even get God’s reset button to work.” He placed his hands in his pockets. “But then, you failed to bring about Armageddon, so I guess failure is in your job descriptions now.”

“Don’t get _cocky_, demon. You–”

Beelzebub raised zir hand and Gabriel instantly stopped talking. Now that was an interesting development. “We don’t know how you remembered; it shouldn’t be possible. So, how did you do it?”

Aziraphale straightened up as if preparing to fight. But what chance did they have, really? They were outnumbered, probably out miracled, and had no idea what could come next. “Perhaps you underestimated exactly who we are and what we’ve been through.”

Gabriel seethed. “If you talk of the Ineffable Plan, I swear on the Almighty–”

“You really shouldn’t do that.” Crowley smirked. “I heard God doesn’t abide by that kind of sentiment.”

“Don’t pretend you have the upper hand here.” Gabriel’s eyes had a glint in them, as if they were glowing. “You’re both outcast, a lowly angel and a lowly demon. You have no true power here.”

“But we were put on Earth, we’ve been here for six thousand years. We know things you couldn’t possibly begin to imagine. And we both know God left us long ago,” Aziraphale said, his voice sure.

Crowley smiled, smugly, realising what Aziraphale was doing. “When was the last time She spoke to any of you?”

Beelzebub raised zir eyebrows. For zir the last time ze had probably spoken to God was before the Fall, if ze had even been given that chance in the first place. Gabriel, though, his expression collapsed. He knew exactly when the last time was, and it seemed it wasn’t recent, if his scowl was anything to go by.

“We’re all following our own free will, aren’t we?” Crowley continued. He looked to Beelzebub. “We rebelled for many reasons, but our own free will, wasn’t that something we craved? A choice in matters? God’s plan is ineffable because we’re merely pieces in one large game. Your choice to want to torture us, or make us suffer, or kill us, for preventing Armageddon is because your sore that this is how things were meant to be.”

Aziraphale folded his hands, standing tall. “It’s ineffable because it’s unpredictable and random. God may be watching us, but none of what you’re doing, Gabriel, is Her wishes. Why would She destroy Earth, her own creation, just to have you all fight it out? The first war was a horrible tragedy, but we’ve all learnt since then.”

“We’re _proof_, that angels and demons can get along.” Crowley watched as Gabriel and Beelzebub processed this. But it wasn’t enough. He needed to appeal. “Beelzebub, surely there is nothing more wonderful than love? Because I feel it, so deep in my heart, so rooted. We’re not opposites, it just so happened that things got out of hand far too quickly. But it can be better now, can’t it? What would have been the point of the rebellion if we just… hated each other when it was God that did this to us. We all had no choice, but we have choices now.”

“He’s right. They both are.” A voice, no, Lucifer’s voice boomed as he walked from one side of the road to the other, coming to a stop between Gabriel and Beelzebub.

Beelzebub widened zir eyes, bowing zir head. “Lucifer.”

Lucifer barely spared a glance to zir. Crowley noticed his hair was shaved at the sides, a mess of black curls styled on top. He had an all black tuxedo on with a blood red bowtie. Looked like even _he_ was attuned to the modern styles.

“I remember what you were like in Heaven, Crowley, when we were all angels.” Lucifer stared at him, with his overwhelming black eyes. What was the point of bringing _that _up? “You questioned everything. From building the universe, to why plants would eat animals. But your big question was about humans, why would God create them when She had angels. And Her answer was ‘it’s a test’, wasn’t it?”

“I thought She meant the humans, at first. Testing _them _to destruction.” Crowley whipped his glasses off, placing them in his jacket pocket. “Except She meant us. Testing us to see how far we would go.”

“And the conclusion was, I imagine, preventing the destruction of the world required an angel and a demon to have a deep connection, a long-lasting friendship, to be in love.” Lucifer’s lips curled. “It was a test to see if two sides, torn apart by…” He gestured vaguely, probably to convey that they were torn apart by him, by everything all the Fallen did before the Fall, “could come together and know that the differences aren’t great.”

Lucifer turned to Gabriel and Beelzebub, clasping his hands behind his back. “There is good and evil in all of us. Remember, the original sin was a good thing. And giving away something against orders can be seen as bad, but in turn, orders and laws should not always be followed if they go against morals, so therefore, it can be good.” He casually pointed to Gabriel. “Wanting to kill an angel or wiping their memory is an evil thing to do. I do believe humans call the death penalty unjust.” He pointed to Beelzebub. “And you do your best for Hell, and for other demons, which is a good thing. But you also went ahead and did things to the First Tempter without my say so.” He relaxed his posture. “Good and evil go hand in hand.”

“If I may, Lucifer, could I ask a question?” Aziraphale said, folding his hands in front of him.

Lucifer turned, nodding.

“Why are you on our side here?”

“Ah… Well, the antichrist was never my son, and so I was given clarity over Armageddon. My perception changed; I saw the bigger picture as it were. And in my opinion, another war would achieve nothing but more death and misery, as well as possibly wiping out demons and Hell completely. So, if you want to be friends, or something else, who am I to say that shouldn’t be allowed? It’s better than the alternative.”

“But they went against everything that should be!” Beelzebub countered. Zir voice buzzed a little with irritation.

“Personally, if I was put down on Earth for six thousand years, and the only other immortal permanently there was an angel, I wouldn’t isolate myself for opinions made directly after a war. It’s been a long time, maybe it’s all of _us _who are wrong.” He gestured to Crowley and Aziraphale. “And not them.”

Gabriel scrunched his face up. “But God wouldn’t allow _this_. Love, between an angel and a demon, it’s disgusting.”

“God forced Adam and Eve out of Eden. God once drowned people and caused a massive genetic bottleneck for every population of animal in one section of the world. God would absolutely relish in an angel and demon falling in love, it would be entertaining for Her.” Lucifer pursed his lips. “You’re not listening to me, or to them.”

“I don’t have to listen to you, you’re a demon.”

Beelzebub sighed, glancing to the ground. “You do… have a point.”

Gabriel looked to zir with wide eyes, as if ze had betrayed him in some way. “You can’t back down on this, they’ll _win_. We need justice.”

“For what…? We all get to live because they helped to prevent a second war and prevented Lucifer from destroying the Earth. All they did was fall in love and found a place to call home.” Ze rubbed her arm. “Isn’t a form of love, of whatever kind, what every one of us needs after losing God’s guidance? Because when _was _the last time She talked to an angel directly?”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “The Metatron is in contact with her directly.”

“Anyone else?”

“Not that… I’m aware of.”

“This is mindless, Gabriel.” Beelzebub gestured wildly to Crowley and Aziraphale, glancing to them with a soft look. “They _remembered_. Something that’s _impossible_. Their connection goes beyond our understanding. We could all have that if we just, stopped hating each other.”

Gabriel scuffed his shoe on the tarmac. “I suppose that wouldn’t be… terrible. I mean, there’s nothing to say it _isn’t _allowed. It was merely an unspoken rule.”

“I never understood that,” Crowley butted in, tilting his head in thought. “Unspoken rules. Might have been a bit clearer if the rules were spoken. That’s where all this confusion comes from.”

“And if it’s not a spoken rule…” Aziraphale smirked, angelically, “then it’s not binding.”

“And so they never did anything wrong in terms of knowing each other,” Lucifer finished. He clasped his hands. “Well, I do believe we’ve settled that, haven’t we? Angels and demons can be friends, Crowley and Aziraphale did the right thing, and we can all enjoy what Earth has to offer if we choose to.” He waved. “Toodles!”

Lucifer disappeared in a cloud of red, leaving the four of them a little bamboozled by… his sign off. Toodles… What kind of colloquial kids TV show nonsense was that? Who even said that? Why did he say that? No evil person would dare. What kind of reality was Crowley in, because it certainly wasn’t the same one he was in five minutes ago, right?

“Did he…” Gabriel vaguely pointed at thin air, “just say toodles?”

“I do believe he did,” Aziraphale said, a soft laugh in his voice.

Beelzebub straightened zir jacket. “I guess I have to go tell ten million demons they can be friends with angels.” Ze turned to Gabriel. “A lot of them used to be best friends with your lot.”

“And a lot of ours used to be best friends with yours.” He sucked in a withering breath. “I think ten million angels will be pleased with this development. A good few wanted to learn how to dance.”

Crowley grinned. “Good luck with that one. Our dancing is… rather fun.”

Aziraphale got a look in his eye that Crowley absolutely _did not _like. “I could teach everyone the Gavotte.”

“Oh no,” He tilted his head back, closing his eyes. “No no no no. Don’t, please, that dance is worse than your magic act.”

“It’s _fun_!”

“It’s not…”

Gabriel thinned his lips. “Is this a lovers quarrel?”

“No, it’s a bickering couple. The humans find it charming.” Beelzebub grimaced. “It’s… cute?”

“Oh, wonderful.” He made an approving noise and looked head on at Beelzebub. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

Ze smiled a little too softly for the Lord of Hell. “I guess you will.”

With smiles, they both popped right out of there, green and purple mist was left behind. Well, a Lord and an Archangel were going to end up together sometime soon. At least that’s what it seemed like.

As for how Crowley was feeling… Shock would be the right word. All he could do was stare directly ahead, wondering how the hell any of that had happened the way it did. Lucifer popping out of nowhere, Beelzebub and Gabriel being on somewhat good terms, and somehow not being punished for remembering. The only thing that could have made it any stranger would have been if God had thrown Her two cents in.

“I really thought that was it,” Crowley murmured, still staring.

Aziraphale cleared his throat, as if dispelling worry. “Love conquers all.”

“Mm, for once, it does.”

“Well, uh, I think this calls for a celebration.”

Crowley turned to him; a small smile teased at his lips. “We passed by a fish and chip shop.”

“Are you suggesting,” Aziraphale glanced to him, already smiling, “that we give up a long tradition of luxurious food, for _chips_?”

“Nothing wrong with a British classic.”

He turned to Crowley, shrugging slightly. “Alright, but if they are in any way bad, you’re taking us straight to the Ritz.”

Crowley chuckled softly. Old habits die hard. “Fine by me.”

They didn’t end up at the Ritz, instead, they happily ate their chips while sitting on a wall. As soon as Aziraphale had tried the first chip, he’d hummed with approval. And so they’d found somewhere to sit and eat in peace, with a bottle of wine Crowley had miracled straight from their supplies back home. There were no lingering fears anymore, they were finally _safe_.

Crowley finished his chips first, setting them aside and wrapping his arm around Aziraphale. He leant his head on his shoulder, sighing with relief. “Today has been… strange.”

“It has.” Aziraphale curled an arm around Crowley’s waist, leaning into him. “But it couldn’t have gone better.”

Even the weather had brightened up, so all in all, yeah, it couldn’t have.

“We’re well and truly free now.”

Aziraphale hummed. “I look forward to spending my free eternity with you, my dear.”

Crowley gave out a small laugh. “That almost sounds like a wedding vow.”

“Perhaps it is a vow.” He kissed the top of Crowley’s hair.

“Then…” Crowley turned his head, looking up at Aziraphale, “I can’t wait to spend forever with you, angel.”

Aziraphale tilted his chin, catching Crowley’s lips in a brief and loving kiss. “I love you.”

Crowley cupped Aziraphale’s jaw and kissed him again, smiling into it. “I love you too.”

Together forever sounded awfully romantic, perfect in every way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!
> 
> Come talk to me on [tumblr :D!](https://kateis-cakeis.tumblr.com/)


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